


so what?

by whentheyfall



Series: still a rockstar [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient History, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Couch Cuddles, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feel-good, Female Harry Potter, Fire Powers, Fix-It, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Loki (Marvel), HP Mental Health Fest, Hugs, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ice Powers, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Lavender Brown Lives, Light Angst, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Muspellsheimr | Muspelsheim, Mystery, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Protective Darcy Lewis, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Siblings, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Timeline What Timeline, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Lavender Brown, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whentheyfall/pseuds/whentheyfall
Summary: Darcy Lewis always knew the Gods of Drama and Irony were out to get her. Someone, somewhere, was writing a melodramatic screenplay of her life and cackling madly. How else do you explain taking a very muggle internship only to end up with two alien deities and their 1000-year-old issues in your lap?(Darcy is Fem Harry; Tasertricks)
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Loki, Dudley Dursley/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Jane Foster/Thor, Loki (Marvel) & Harry Potter
Series: still a rockstar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674064
Comments: 259
Kudos: 774
Collections: Female Harry, Marvel Verse FF, TaserTricks-A Darcy Lewis/Loki Laufeyson collection





	1. ipod

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps. This is pretty AU, and emphatically NOT a canon rehash. There will be no copied dialogue or carbon copy plot lines. Things will change. They already have changed. I have two prequels in the works too because I laugh in the face of sleep. But yeah, if that's not your jam, be warned. There's also some minor use of OCs, nothing too big. Mostly giving a face and backstory to existing unnamed characters. 
> 
> No swearing, no sex, no graphic violence. No slash.

Dudley was the one who got Darcy her first iPod. Well. It was an MP3 player; iPods hadn't come out yet, but he would give her one of them too eventually.

She was sat hunched at his kitchen table, knobby knees pulled up to her chest as the wireless blared. Hiding. Not that she would admit it. Things had been strange lately. Not her usual type of strange, which usually spelled Voldemort, but an internal sort of strange. She'd felt it again earlier, railing against old Tiberius Nott and his archaic proposed werewolf legislation, stronger than ever. A sort of liquid, all-consuming warmth that spread from the base of her throat across the rest of her body. The scariest part was that it wasn't scary at all. It felt familiar, felt right even.

And Darcy had heard horror stories about the caliber of dark magic that made you feel like it was right. Those were the kinds of things that turned bubbly, sensitive young Hufflepuffs into someone called "Emerick the _Evil_ ". After Voldemort in her brain, and now with this feeling in the year since his death...Darcy didn't know what to think. She'd had her head checked at St Mungos and then in the Department of Mysteries for goodness' sake! Hermione had chucked every dark detection spell known to wizards at her after the Forest! There was nothing in her head.

She still didn't feel safe.

But somehow in her cousin's dingy, rundown flat she felt _more_ safe than surrounded by scores of friends and admirers, any of whom she knew would lay down their lives for her in an instant. It was ridiculous, especially since for the first good half of her life Dudley was the one she should have been hiding from. Yet here she was.

She heard him long before he entered the room, of course; he wasn't morbidly obese like when they were children, but he had a boxer's bulk, and was unjustly tall to boot. He'd never manage to sneak up on her, which was a relief no matter how guilty. It wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you.

Still, he startled her with the little parcel clutched in his big, rough, bloody-knuckled hands. Dudley wasn't one for gifts, and it wasn't even Christmas! 

Darcy must've looked more surprised than she thought or something because he harumphed, ears going red in a very endearingly Dudley way. He put in on the table with a thunk and then sat across from her.

"You're blushing," she pointed out gleefully, as if it wasn't a semi-often occurance. He was a touch browner in skin tone than Darcy, but he hadn't had the benefit of growing up around the Weasley Terrors and a magic castle full of angsty, troublemaking magic users. Even Neville, once the most rosy-cheeked of them all, was practically immune to embarrassment these days. 

Dudley grunted and glowered in response, as if she would be intimidated by that.

"You're not frightening," she told him. "Voldie's stink eye was much worse. He probably could have won a competition, even as a kid."

She grinned to herself at the thought of baby Tom Riddle standing in front of a panel of muggle judges like on those cooking shows, scowling as they cooed over the exquisitly angry line of his brows and the foreboding tilt of his head. One judge, she imagined, would be the requisite old curmudgeon and say that the squint of his eyes was much too much to be believable.

And then baby Tom would pull out his wand and kill them all with that familiar hateful snarl and they'd fall in a way that was just as familiar, like a puppet with cut strings, dolls dropped carelessly to the floor and-

Darcy reached for the package.

Dudley didn't seem to have noticed anything. Good. But honestly! Now she couldn't even make silly jokes of her dead nemesis in the privacy of her own head?! By Loki, what was the world coming to? 

A small, slightly scuffed muggle device fell into her palm.

"Ooh, interesting!" she said, trying hard to sound normal. She'd always been a good liar...unless she blurted out something stupid in the heat of it. Like with Malfoy and the Polyjuice that got her detention for a month. It would've been longer, except it hadn't completely worn off, and with her face still half Parkinson even Snape couldn't have identified her. So instead he gave her detention every week for the stupidest-

"It's an MP3 player," Dudley mumbled. "It, ah, holds songs, so you can listen to them whenever you want to."

"Aww," Darcy said, forcibly shaking herself out of the nervous thought circle. "D, that's sweet of you. Thanks."

And it really was. She was fine, happy. The wave of bad memories retreated back into the ocean, or whatever poetic dung Snape had gone on about in an effort to make her learn Occlumency- 

Dudley grunted again, bringing her out of her head and, okay, maybe she wasn't _fine_ , per se. But since when were any of them?

The red flush had spread from Dudley's ears down his neck and into his cheeks by the time she clocked back in fully. He avoided eye contact, thank Merlin, instead looking down at his bruised hands. Darcy unfolded and padded around the table to give him a hug that was as much for her as it was for him. He excepted it with a resigned air that didn't fool her one bit. He smelled of plastic, aftershave, and a little of blood and sweat. It shouldn't have been a comforting smell.

It was.

"Thanks," she said again lamely, because she sucked at communication and didn't know how to express how touched she was that he had bothered to pay attention to how much music calmed her and then gone out of his way to provide her with some constantly available, all for no discernible reason.

"Er, yeah," Dudley replied just as awkwardly.

He patted one of her arms a few times, big hand as gentle as if he were petting a kitten. She squeezed him once more and let go. 

"So, erm, this is how it works..." 

He spent the next several minutes explaining it to her, which Darcy appreciated. He tried so hard not to cross the line into condescending, but she knew next to nothing about the muggles' new inventions. She wasn't as clueless as many of her friends, but she hadn't exactly invested time in keeping up to date with the world outside magic either. Not until just recently, that was.

Dudley's mobile rang and Darcy jumped, hand flying to the wand hidden up her sleeve. Her cousin, in turn, tensed instantly as he lurched to his feet. There was a beat of silence as they both realized what happened, and Darcy groaned and sank back into her chair. Dudley let out a shaky exhale and flipped his phone open.

"What?" he snapped, rough with aggression that killed any lingering fear in his voice.

" _Yo, man, relax bruh!_ " the young man on the other end said, accent vaguely American. " _You wanna go to that new club we were talking about tonight? Maybe bring your hot cousin?"_

"Shove off about her," Dudley said immediately. His free hand formed a fist. 

" _Jeeze, sorry! You wanna come or what? Piers knows the owner, so we can get in free_."

Dudley looked at Darcy. She smiled encouragingly. He narrowed his eyes.

 _Sure_?

She rolled hers.

 _Yes, idiot, just go already_.

"Yeah. Sure, mate. What time?"

" _Sweet, bruh! How about ten? We can grab some food first."_

"See you then," Dudley said, and hung up.

"That was Miguel, right?" Darcy asked, though she was pretty sure. There was only one American in Dudley's friend group as far as she knew.

"Yeah," Dudley said, scowling. "He's a prat."

"So are most of your friends," she pointed out. "Is he cute, at least?"

"What? No!"

So he was. Darcy laughed mischeviously. Dudley was so protective sometimes. He glowered at her, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. She smiled and rose to give him one last hug.

"I should probably be going," she said. "Have fun at the club."

"See you. Tell Weasley to come back soon so I can kick her ars-"

Darcy glared. 

"Kick her _behind_ in Grand Theft Auto. Are you really serious about not swearing? Because we're British, you know, I don't think it's going to work out," he complained. 

"That," Darcy said, voice rising, jabbing her finger into his shoulder. "Is exactly why I'm doing it. Because Hermione told me I couldn't go twenty minutes without swearing, so of course I have to prove her wrong, but then it turned into a bet and _everybody_ who heard about it is betting against me! I will not loose! I won't! And if I can't swear, then neither can you! I suffer, you suffer!"

"...Ugh. Fine, whatever. Just get out."

But that was defeat in his tone, so Darcy grinned and pecked his cheek and flounced out the door as aggravatingly as she could, pulling on memories of Lavender and Parvati at their most aggressively obnoxious. She could still hear him groaning and grumbling as she exited onto the street. Although, speaking of her dormmates...

...

"Darcy!" Lavender cried, delight in her eyes. "Come in darling, you know you don't even have to knock."

"Hey Lav. Hello again, Violet," she said, smiling down at the tiny, incredibly well dressed witch at her old dormmate's side.

"Hi Aunt Darcy," the girl said--well, practically squeaked, really--as she hid her face in her adopted mother's leg. All Darcy could see of her was the rich purple dress and a head of spiky little cornrows. Adorable.

She fought the urge to coo, smiling at Lavender, who grinned back knowingly in agreement. 

"So what brings you here?" she asked. Darcy flopped down on the couch and kicked off her shoes. 

"Dudley's off clubbing with his muggles, and I haven't seen you three in a while. Where is Parvati, by the way?"

"Fetching this month's Wolfsbane." Lavender picked up her daughter and sat next to Darcy, delicately removing her pumps with painted toes. She was the only person Darcy had ever met that regularly wore heels around her own home. 

"She should be back any second, actually," Lavender continued. "Mr Jigger has started keeping it on reserve for us, now that we're regulars."

"Good," Darcy harumphed. 

She would never forget two months ago when Lavender Floo called, frantic and crying, to tell her that the Apothecary was out the Wolfsbane potion, even though it was weeks from the full moon. She was in a complete panic that Violet would have to face the moon without it. In the end, Darcy had used her political weight, which she usually just tried to ignore, to get the potion from France, despite it being a controlled substance. It usually would have gone through a whole circus of red tape to be imported, but with her mystical, magical "Girl Who Lived, Victor of Magic" reputation, it arrived the night before the first day of the full moon. Dozens of others weren't so fortunate.

"That should never have happened," she burst out. "Never--there was plenty in stock for all the local werewolves, Hermione checked!"

"So some foreigner had a need, then." Lav shrugged as if it were no big deal. 

"Or maybe _someone_ iss messing with us," she said pointedly. Lavender sighed.

"Darling, please. Draco has changed, he really has. Lycanthropy has forced him to grow up almost as much the war did. He wouldn't. And please don't continue to talk like this. He's a valued client. You'll have to sleep at Granger or your cousin's place if you do."

"Wait, who said I'd be sleeping here?" Darcy asked, confused and a bit irritated. Defending Malfoy of all people... "And whyever would you think I couldn't just sleep in my own home?"

Lavender rolled her pretty blue eyes.

"Dear. Please. You haven't slept in your own bed more than twice in the last month! And even then, one of those times you ended up apparating to Lonbottom Manor in your sleep."

"I...ugh." Darcy shut her mouth. 

"Don't be grumpy, Darce." Parvati's smooth, lightly accented voice entered the conversation. "You don't look so pretty with your forehead all wrinkled up."

Darcy laughed, despite the recent realization that she was essentially a vagabond, the freeloading layabout the Dursleys had always accused her of being. 

"Hello to you too, Vati," she teased. Now it was Parvati's turn to frown, though admittedly the expression was much cuter on her. More of a subtle pout, really. Nothing like Darcy's "thundercloud-y, ax-murderer-esque scowl of doom and despair" as Luna had very fondly dubbed it. She tried not to think of the fact that it matched young Tom Riddle's exactly.

"Will you ever stop mangling my name?"

"Not a chance."

But they smiled at each other, and Parvati removed her slippers, nearly floating over in her pretty gold and pink sari. She picked up Violet and gave her a kiss on the nose. The little witch laughed in delight and kissed her other adopted parent back. Darcy watched as Parvati sat down and intertwined her hand with Lavender's, running her thumb gently over the scarred skin there. Lavender beamed, the scars on her left cheek pulling a bit.

"And you're sure the two of you aren't dating? You know none of us will judge you," she couldn't help but say once again. And just like always, they laughed and denied it, but then Lavender perked up.

"Oh! That reminds me! Darcy, I've actually found a name for what Parvati and I are to each other. We're in a _queer-platonic relationship_!" She declared it so proudly, but Darcy was embarrassed to say she had no idea what that meant.

"Erm," she said. "That's good...?"

"Yes, Darce, it's good," Parvati giggled. "It just means that we are extraordinarily close friends, more or less. There's nothing romantic here, but we're close enough that we might as well be dating. We're committed to one another, and will more likely than not be spending the rest of our lives together, but neither of us have any desire to start snogging." Violet gasped at the "scandalous" word and Lavender clucked reprovingly at her...queer platonic partner? 

"That does sound just like you," Darcy said, all while thinking that it also sounded an awful lot like what she'd felt with Ron and Hermione both, before they left her on the Horcrux Hunt. Now, though...well, she still loved them, and she'd die for them in an instant, but it just wasn't the same. It had been the Locket's fault through and through for Ron leaving, and Hermione had lunged after him the second he apparated, leaving herself splinched. And Darcy all alone with a piece of Voldemort around her neck and another stuffed inside her scar; a splinter of soul like a broken, flayed child, bloody and gasping on King's Cross' floor and she couldn't help wanted to desperately, couldn't even touch it approach it look at it-

Cool hands on her wrists.

Darcy snapped back to the present. Lavender crouched in front of her, Parvati and Violet across the room, poised to leave. The heat and reached her lungs, pooling steady and comforting as if she was about to breath fire--Darcy looked rapidly around, searching for the damage--

"It's alright love, you didn't break a thing," Lavender assured her, very slowly opening her arms, an offer of a hug. Darcy all but collapsed into them and Lavender began stroking her hair. Parvati relaxed, and carried Violet back to the couch once it became clear that it wasn't going to be one of _those_ flashbacks.

"Erugh," Darcy said eloquently, which summed up her feelings on the matter nicely. She made herself pull away after a few minutes, calmed and perhaps a little bit drained, because if she didn't do it then she never would. 

"Can we do something distracting?" she blurted.

"Sure, love," Lavender agreed instantly. "Oh! I have just the thing! How do you feel about a makeover?"

Darcy opened her mouth to refuse quite automatically and paused. Violet was lit up hopefully, brown-gold eyes huge. Perhaps something simple and girly and mindless would be best. And to be truthful, if she didn't let them do it now, the pair would probably ambush her in her sleep. Darcy had been refusing their makeovers from when she was eleven and terrified of the Dursleys' reactions to sixteen and too angry and worried to have anything to do with it. 

"Well. I suppose so, yes."

"Wait, really?" Lavender squealed. "Yes! Finally! Darcy dearest, we are going to make you GLOW!"

And in moments Darcy found herself sitting on the fluffy carpet of Lavender and Parvati's room, makeup slathered all over her face for the second time in her life. Music from her new device blared happily, a rock number Parvati of all people had chosen. She never knew her friend had such great taste in muggle music. Violet was currently painting her toenails bright Gryffindor red with absolutely precious care. Lavender had done... something to her hair, and it's usual frizzy mess, which could occasionally rival Hermione's at its worst, now bobbed about her face and shoulders in tight glossy ringlets.

"If we had more time and Sleakeazy we could have done princess curls--long, loose ones--or even straightened it," Parvati said as she rummaged through their impressive closet. 

"Me. Straight hair," Darcy repeated stupidly. "Wait--that's possible?"

All three witches laughed, even Violet. Darcy was glad her astonishment was amusing to them. It wasn't like she had tried for years to even get it to calm into anything approaching merely curly, and not a ravenous mass of frizz and snarls. 

"Don't be silly, love, of course it is. It was a Potter who invented Sleakeazy, after all. It's the only known hair care potion that works to tame all curls and cowlicks." 

...Ugh. 

"Ugh."

They laughed again, because yeah, Darcy was a regular comedian, wasn't she? 

"Ooh, Darcy, what about this?" Parvati said, whipping around with a long red dress with a lower neckline than anything she'd even _seen._

"No!" Darcy squawked, incredulous. "No, absolutely not!"

Parvati pouted her cute pout again. "Come on Potter, it would look amazing with your skin tone, and definitely show off your-"

"NO. Seriously. I don't want to show anything off! Especially not, you know..."

"Breasts?" Parvati said dryly. Lavender covered Violet's ears with a gasp. Darcy groaned.

"What? It's what they're called! We're not twelve anymore! You're almost twenty, Darcy! And you, Lav, knew much worse words at seven. But fine. If you don't want to draw too much attention, how about these?"

She brandished a pair of high waisted slacks and a bright red button up blouse. 

"Hmmm. Se-slinky but professional isn't what I'd say is usually her style, but with the hair tamed a bit I think we could pull it off," Lavender said.

"Uh, no. No slinky anything, no way, no thank you, come again next Saturday," Darcy sputtered, crossing her arms in front of her in an X.

"But Darcy!" Lavender pretended to whine.

"Oh come off it, with that bust size relative to your height you can hardly be anything but perfectly sexy."

Lavender had covered his daughter's ears just in time, earning her partner a dirty look.

"Not true." Darcy shook her head. "I've managed my whole life so far, in fact."

Lav and Parvati exchanged loaded looks. Darcy bristled silently. She hated it when people did that about her. It usually meant she'd done something strange, gotten something apparently obvious completely wrong, or was about to get very Bad news.

"First of all, Darce, I've yet to see anyone who could look sexy in the hand-me-downs of Hermione Granger," Parvati started. 

"And second of all...despite that, plenty of boys fancied you from fourth year onward, and believe me, not just because of your fame. Merlin knows you could've had your pick of the lot," Lavender finished.

"I was a little busy trying to figure out stop Voldemort killing any more of my friends and family, thanks," she snapped. Darcy winced immediately, eyes darting towards Violet in guilt, but Lavender smiled gently and shook her head.

"Silencing spell," she said, and took it off her confused daughter. 

"Sorry." Darcy grimaced. "I haven't done like that in a while."

"It's alright," Parvati said. "We needn't have pushed." She came over and knelt next to Darcy, pulling her into a hug that smelled like cinnamon and something fruity. She let herself lean into it for a five count and then moved away again. She cast about for a subject change.

"How about you, Violet? What do you think I should wear?"

The little girl lit up. She bolted to her feet, floaty dress robes billowing as she went, and returned several seconds later holding a very familiar jersey.

"Gryffindor Number Seven!" she declared proudly. Darcy burst into delighted laughter. She she smoothed her hand over those cute little cornrows and planted a kiss on the girl's forehead. Violet giggled, and Darcy got a kiss of her own, right on the cheek. Violet scampered over to her mum, and Darcy thought that if her skin were a bit lighter she would see a blush on those cheeks.

"This," Darcy declared, "Is perfect."

And to her shock, both Parvati and Lavender were slowly nodding along. 

"You always were a sporty one, Darcy. You know... I have an idea." Lavender sprung toward the closet, flicking through hangers and breakneck speed. "Ah-ha! Here it is!"

She threw an artfully torn jean skirt through the air, and Parvati caught it without even looking. She held it up against the Quidditch Jersey and nodded.

"You know, I do think this will work," Lavender said, tone slowly gaining momentum and excitement. "Violet, my darling flower, you're a genius. Go fetch those little black boots if you will, love? Thank you."

"Darcy, you still have you Godfather's leather jacket, right?" said Parvati.

"Always," she replied, squinting at the outfit she could sort of see assembling itself in her mind's eye. To her surprise...It wasn't half bad.

"Out with it then," Lavender said, bouncing on her toes so that her long waves of golden hair shimmered around her face. Darcy obligingly reached into her red beaded bag, identical to Hermione's in all ways but color and contents, and summoned it to her hand.  
Lavender squealed.

"Oh, it's just perfect. Ooh, try it on then! Come on now, please?" And so Darcy shucked her secondhand muggle clothes--old trousers from Hermione, Ginny's t-shirt, Dudley's stolen hoodie. She felt no shame in changing in front of the others, not like she had at first, or even in her later years. There was no need to go to the bathroom to hide scars, not when all of them had their fair share, even little Violet.

"Yay! I told you about the jersey!"

"Ahhh! I just knew you could look presentable, I just knew it!"

"Oh Godric, Darce, you're amazing!"

And looking in the mirror, she couldn't help but agree, just a little. The jersey, tucked in, was loose enough to help hide her figure at least a bit. It really was her best color, bright Gryffindor red, and she loved that fact. It made her black hair even darker and made her mother's green eyes pop. The boots and Sirius' jacket matched almost perfectly, and she didn't have to worry about flashing someone by accident because Lavender had hunted down a pair of "leggings" that protected her modesty.

"I'm going to cry," Lavender said, dead serious. "I mean it. If nobody else sees this, I'll...I'm going to...I dunno, but it won't be pretty!"

"What about a club?" Darcy asked, the familiar rush of mischief rolling through her, and a sort of casual daring she'd been missing all too much lately. That sort of brash Gryffindor courage had once been as easy as breathing.

"Yes!" Lavender and Parvati shrieked together. Well, Lav shrieked, Parvati stated. Very emphatically, though. Parvati Patil hadn't done anything as undignified as shriek since she heard Viktor Krum asked Hermione to Yule.

"Okay. Okay then." Then she gave the mirror her most wickedly rougish smirk, shamelessly ripped right off the handsome, lying double-face of Tom Riddle. Darcy felt good. Rejuvenated, more confident...maybe even a touch powerful. Amazing the difference some blood-red lipstick and leather boots made. 

"I'll call D and find the apparition point closest to the club. Do either of you want to come?"

"Me," Parvati said, stepping forward. "And I hope you know I'll be taking pictures from a Pensieve later. This will never be forgotten."

"Expected." Darcy sighed.

"I'll just stay with Vi. You two have fun," Lavender trilled, but her usual 100 watt smile was a bit off. Parvati stroked the back of her hand again while Darcy awkwardly and frantically tried to figure out what was wrong. Did Lav secretly want to come too? If so, they could just Floo Luna or Bill and Fleur, all of whom would be happy to take Vi, werewolf or no-

Oh. Werewolf.

Scars stretched across Lavender's body. Her face escaped mostly unscathed; Greyback's claws left thin furrows in the skin of her jaw on either side--three marks on the left, one on the right--from where he had grabbed her face. The bite on her shoulder was worse. And the clawmarks and bites across her arms and legs from before her wolf form had settled enough for Wolfsbane were horrible.  
Lavender was the most sensitive of their group about her scars, and other than Darcy herself, she was the one with the most of them. 

She reached out and caught Lavender's other hand carefully, still not quite sure if she was doing it right. She squeezed back though, so she supposed she hadn't mangled the simple act of handholding too badly. Lavender took a deep steadying breath and released their hands. When she opened her eyes she was smiling again, soft and sweet.

"Thank you. Really. Now! Darcy dear, you call that fit cousin of yours-"

"Lav, eww!" 

"-and Parvati and Violet darlings, let's get this handbag transfigured into something more suitable, yes?" 

And so half an hour later, Darcy found herself walking arm-in-arm with her sometimes roommate towards her scowling and visibly protective cousin, with no idea that this night was going to change her life forever.


	2. taser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: references to abuse, some violence.

"Darcy! Wow, bruh, you really are a babe!" 

That was the greeting she got from Dudley's friend, and it shocked a giggle out of her. That and the way Miguel acted, bouncing on his toes and looking around as if absolutely everything was fascinating. He ignored the "light" smack Dudley gave him, which was impressive. He barely cleared Dudley's shoulder. It was still quite a bit more than she managed, but the height difference only served to make him more like a hyperactive kid. 

Darcy liked him at once. He seemed to have as little filter as she did. 

"Thanks, bruh," she said back, doing her best to copy the accent. Miguel actually jumped and nearly fell over and Darcy had no conpunctions against laughing again. Somehow she doubted he'd take offense. Besides, what if she'd been embarrassed about his statement earlier? What comes around goes around. 

"Woah! Dude, that was epic. You're like a voice actor or something!" 

And you're like a little kid, she thought.

"And you're like a little kid," she said. He blinked, tilted his head, and grinned.

"I like you," he declared, pointing dramatically and seamlessly transforming it into a handshake, which she accepted promptly.

"You wanna go out some time?"

"No thanks, I don't date minors," she teased. "But depending on how you grow up...maybe."  
Then she hoped his manly pride hadn't been offended.

He giggled, so nope. 

"Sweet, bruh!" He was going to say more, too, but Parvati and Dudley cleared their throats simultaneously. Darcy jumped, and turned to look at the friend.

"Oh! I am so sorry! Dudley, you've met Parvati. Miguel, this is my flatmate, Parvati Patil."

"Hey, pleased to meet you, bruh," he said, pumping her hand up and down enthusiastically. She allowed a light laugh, and that was how Darcy knew she didn't like him. Parvati's true laugh was husky and deeper than her speaking voice.

"And you as well," she said pleasantly enough. 

"Alright," Dudley cut in, looking impatient. He kept looking down at his watch. "We're going to be late. Can we go now?"

It was rude, but apparently all three of them were used to his awkward ways. They headed down the street towards the line outside the club. Darcy felt the first fluttering of nerves, and just hoped they had some decent music. By the time they were through, she knew she was right. The room was perilously close to being packed, with the accompanying heat and smell, but she distinctly spotted non-alcoholic drinks at the bar--she'd promised Hermione never again, and she very well meant it--and Queen was blaring from the speakers.

"Dursley! Here, mate!" someone bellowed. It was Piers Polkiss, who had grown from a rat-like and twitchy slip of a boy to a short, wiry young man with a disproportionately deep voice. Dudley said being removed from his father's custody was good for him. Last she heard he'd stopped hitting girls, too.

"Polkiss," Dudley acknowledged in a similar shout. Everything was much noisier than she'd thought--surely the music didn't need to be quite so loud. Parvati slipped her hands inside the opposite sleeves, and a second later it was down to a bearable level. 

"Right. Piers, this is Parvati Patil, Darcy's flatmate. Parvati, Piers Polkiss, my oldest mate."

"Er, hello. Pleased to meet you." He looked nervous, and kept glancing between her and Darcy. Probably wondering what she'd been told. 

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Parvati said. Her eyes held steady, lips pressed firmly together, and did not remove her hands from her sleeves.

Dudley looked briefly to Darcy.

_Is she going to cause a scene_? his eyes seemed to ask.

She signed no and hoped it was the truth. 

"Well!" Miguel yelled, breaking the awkward moment. "Are we going to dance or what bruh?" 

"Totally, bruh!" Darcy replied. Then, because she felt like it and didn't want Parvati to hover, which she would if Darcy was too close to Polkiss: "Dance with me!"

And they took to the floor. And the next few hours were a blessed blur. No room to think, no time to spiral, no space to get stuck in her own head. Darcy had no idea why she'd never been clubbing before. It was a glorious distraction, and frankly excellent fun. The heat around her, the pulse of music and bodies, the pretty flashing lights...

She remembered being delighted with Miguel's dancing skills, and teaching him a few of Sirius' Wizarding World favorites, laughing as they deliberately swung around, just shy of slamming into people and creating a nice bubble towards the rear of the dance floor.

Then he taught her Salsa, and if she hadn't put up with the Weasley Twins flirting with her non-stop since she turned thirteen she might even have blushed. But smooth as he was, Miguel had nothing on the Weasley ways. Darcy hadn't had so much fun since... since the half-disaster of the Yule Ball. Going with her best friend had been lovely, despite the awkward crush she and Hermione had both had on him. 

Then at some point the others found them again. Parvati taught them all the steps to an Indian Wizarding dance Darcy had learned back in Forth Year. She was happy to stand in as the male lead as they dazzled everyone with their awesome skills and feminine charm. 

Ha. There was a thought. _Feminine charm_. If she knew her hair at all it was a frizzy mess, and the faint sheen of sweat, though not nearly as bad as anyone else's (excepting Parvati, who was apparently immune to being mussed) had probably made her makeup run.

_Bathroom_ , she signed to Parvati. 

_Back up?_ Parvati signed back at the same time as Dudley. She waved them off, citing breathing room.

The girls had leaned BSL from their dormmate Sally Anne before she transferred to Castlebroux in Third Year. She had been deaf since a bad fever when she was a toddler. It was useful too, since Vernon didn't know a thing about sign language, so she'd gotten away with secretly teaching Dudley over the summer of sixth year, before everything went south. 

That particular exchange, of course, wasn't BSL but rather based on it. Hermione and Lisa Turpin, who was also fluent, had developed a bastatdized form of code to communicate with the DA during the Pink Toad's reign of terror. It had proved very useful in all manner of situations. 

The bathroom was empty at the moment, thank Circe. She pulled her newly transfigured leather bag over her shoulder and looked in the mirror above the sink. And squinted in disbelief. Behind her glasses, her eye makeup was as sharp and pristine as it had been when applied. Her hair--well, alright, it was a bit frizzier, but nothing close to the usual.

"Huh. Not bad," she muttered and dug in her purse for a water bottle. 

"Wow. I knew women's purses can hold anything but I've never seen it in action before."

Darcy turned, ready with an excuse, before the stranger's voice and then appearance registered in her dance-fogged brain.

"This is the women's toilet, mate," she said sharply. "Men's is next one down."

He just stood there, smiling vacantly.

"Are you drunk?" she snapped, slowly going for the wand strapped to her arm. 

He lunged.

Darcy opened her mouth to give him a particularly nasty jinx, but her foot slipped in a puddle of water and he managed to tackle her down before she recovered. Her head cracked against the wall; her wand clattered to the floor and rolled out of sight. The man pulled back a fist--she flinched and raised her arms, forgetting all about wandless spells and self defense and strength brought by magic--and the man jerked suddenly and fell in a heap. Darcy sat up, but her rescuer wasn't Parvati.

Instead, a tall brown skinned woman whose auburn plait swung near her hips stood there, holding a small black muggle taser. Her distinctly East Asian eyes glittered with fury.

"Are you alright?" she asked, stowing the very illegal taser in her purse and hurrying forward. She had a pretty contralto voice that suited her well, and an Irish accent. Which would explain the red hair. 

Darcy let herself be helped up, still a little dizzy but getting over it fast. She'd had far worse blows to the head in her time. No. What worried her was the heat singing in her veins. She needed to get away.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just annoyed. He shouldn't have gotten the drop on me like that."

The woman looked concerned. Darcy winced. What had she said that was not normal?

"Erm, thank you for your help. I'm Darcy, by the way," she said quickly. 

"Fiona Lewis," she replied, eyes darting from the fallen man to Darcy's practiced fake smile to the scar in front of her ear. It was one of her more visible ones, received when her head slammed into the Philosopher's Stone in first year. Darcy stiffened further, and Lewis noticed her noticing. 

She raised her hands peacefully.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."

She wasn't worried about that. 

"Where did you get a taser?" she barely managed to say instead. Why hadn't she left yet? Clearly, Darcy was fine. 

"My ma is in law enforcement in South Korea," Lewis said. "She likes to ignore the laws she's enforcing to smuggle me useful things sometimes."

"Good ma, then," Darcy said.

"The best."

"I'm sure. Well, er, I should probably get going. Thanks again. It was nice meeting you!"

She tried to duck out the door. Lewis stepped in front of her. 

"Darcy, wait! Aren't you going to report him?"

She blinked. 

"Why would I do that? And to who?" 

"Because he attacked you. And, oh, I dunno, the police maybe?"

Darcy snorted before she could help it. Her lovely distraction of a night was quickly. Being ruined. She just wanted dancing, good music and cheap soda pop, dang it! 

"Ha. Right. Because that's suddenly a such a crime. And I doubt the police would help anything. Uh. No offense to your ma. Anyway gotta go, bye!"

And she slipped past and bolted back to her friends at the edge of the dance floor just in time to see Parvati _completely loose her Loki-given mind_ and knock Piers Polkiss out with a clean left hook.

"What the f-lip!" she yelled. To her shock, Parvati rounded on her, magic roiling with such torment that Darcy went automatically for her wand...which was currently in the bathroom, soaking up filth. 

"And you!" Parvati seethed. Darcy was shocked to see tears in her eyes. Every last drop of heat drained out of her. Dudley was frozen, looking at the ground with something like shame. Miguel was nowhere to be seen. The muggles didn't see anything amiss.

"You- how could you?"

"What? Parvati, I don't-"

"Darcy Hunting? They almost drowned you! And-and Darcy, a _cupboard!_? Bars on your windows? You lied! You said Dursley was mean! Not abusive! Oh, Darcy... Darcy, why didn't you say something?"

Darcy opened her mouth, but for once in her life nothing came out. Her voice failed her. Her mind was utterly blank.

Then:

"Oh, hi, sorry, am I interrupting something?" 

Fiona Lewis stepped between her and Parvati, shoulders squared. Parvati took a step back--not in fear; Darcy could see her getting a better angle to attack and defend.

"Move," Parvati snapped, her first and only warning. And yeah, she really would hex a muggle to protect Darcy. Parvati was ruthless like that; had been ever since Greyback.

"No," Lewis said, flat and steady and _furious_. "You will not hurt her."

Parvati almost lost her grip on her hidden wand. Shock, hurt, and then cold anger flashed over her pretty features. 

"You. Will move," she whispered, and it was perfectly clear despite the blaring music. 

"No."

And Darcy finally found her voice.

"EXCUSE ME!" she roared with every bit of volume born from long days on the Quidditch Pitch, yelling at her idiot team members. Both women jumped and turned to her automatically, shocked.

"You! First of all," Darcy began, striding around Lewis and poking her in the arm. "Parvati would never hurt me! She's one of my best friends, and I know what you're thinking but that's NOT it.

"And Parvati, this is Fiona Lewis. She just tasered some dude in the bathroom for me. She's alright. You both just need to calm down, okay? Okay."

And then she stormed off to cuddle Dudley, who was caught half in the web of notice-me-nots Parvati had woven. As soon as she touched him he snapped out of it, and looked down at her, shuddering, with uncomfortably red-rimmed eyes. 

"I demand cuddles," she said. He obliged.

And so Darcy watched, with her face half squished into Dudley's muscly sternum, peering over his arm at Lewis and Parvati as they began to talk, each of them relaxing slowly. 

"You alright?" Darcy asked her cousin, once the others stopped looking like they were going to kill each other.

"Fine. Darce, I'm sorry-"

"Nope," Darcy said, popping the P. "You've already apologized. It's in the past now. Over. Done. I've forgiven you."

He laughed, and Darcy politely pretended the sound wasn't wet as she continued.

"Besides, you're a different person now. Don't feel guilty for the past Dudley's mistakes. If you're determined to feel bad about something though, it should be eating the last donut on Wednesday."

Another laugh, and the tears spilled over and Dudley hunched in on himself, trying to stem the flow.

"Real men cry," she informed him, ignoring her previous resolution to pretend he wasn't in fact crying. She reached on her tip toes to brush her hand against his cheeks, getting rid of the evidence, though, because real man or not Dudley would hate for other muggles to see it once the spells fell.

Darcy turned. 

"And real women don't start catfights with other women for no reason." She raised her voice pointedly. 

"I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that. I won't do it again," Parvati swore, and Darcy felt the truth of the statement in her magic. 

"I am too," Lewis said. "I shouldn't have bulldozed on without thinking. I can't promise I'll never do it again, but I'll certainly try."

"Then that's all I could ask for," Darcy said. "I can relate, about the bulldozer thing. But anyway! Dudley, this is Fiona Lewis. She right well demolished this prat who got the jump on me in the loo. Fiona, this is my cousin, Dudley Dursley. D, go say hi." And she shoved him towards the similarly tall, athletic newcomer, hoping he could distract her with his big muscles and blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. 

It worked too, because in the next moment she and Parvati slipped away to check on Polkiss and made sure Parvati hadn't crushed his skull or something. Lewis didn't even blink.

"Did you have to hit him so hard?" Darcy grimaced as she inspected the blackening flesh on his jaw. Definitely fractured. 

"I didn't mean to, actually," Parvati said, her serene voice laced with a hint of nerves. No guilt though, which was typical of her, really. "I held back quite a bit; I didn't expect him to be so fragile."

Darcy huffed. "I forget you're a Pureblood sometimes. Muggles are more delicate than wizard toddlers. Most would literally die from one good, solid hit with a bludger."

"Yes, well, at least I didn't hit like a bludger then." Oops, now she sounded defensive. 

"Thank you for defending my honor, Vati. It means a lot."

Parvati smiled, soft and true and sheepish.

"You're welcome. I'll try to do it with words next time, if it's a muggle."

They both laughed. 

"Alright. I'm going to go get my wand. Start healing this lump? Thanks."

By the time Darcy had cleaned her wand off and come back, Fiona Lewis and her cousin were deep in conversation. She doubted either of them would notice her even without the charms. She was so tempted to make funny faces as she passed them, and then realized there was no reason not to.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Parvati asked. Polkiss had been healed of everything but a light bruise. It was probably _too_ light to be honest, but she didn't want her friend to have any incentive to redarken it manually.

"No reason. Why did--er, that is, how did the conversation turn to...?"

"Your repulsive excuse for a childhood?" Parvati sneered. Darcy had never seen her do that before; she was surprising good at it.

Too much time around Malfoy, Darcy diagnosed.

"Erm, yeah."

"He was drunk," Parvati said succinctly, nostrils flaring. It was a very McGonagall expression.

"Did he start bragging?" Her stomach twisted a little. She thought that Piers had changed since his childhood years.

"Well...not exactly," Parvati hedged. She looked sheepish again, but defiantly. Somehow. "He was actually getting a bit weepy about it, but I was so angry. I thought it must have been an act."

"Oh. Well. Thank you, again." Smooth, Darce. "Er, do you need talk about..."

"No, it's alright. We can talk with Lav later tonight if you're up to it. There's no pressure Darcy, honest. I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine, really. Already forgotten. Now! Are we gonna wake the poor sod up or not?"

"Official story will be I punched him, but he was so drunk he fell over, hit his head, and passed out. Is that... believable, for a muggle?"

"Perfectly," she assured her. They cast on the count of three; Darcy an ennervate, Parvati taking down her notice-me-not wards. Piers groaned and sat up slowly. 

He saw Darcy and immediately started crying.

It was pretty awkward after that.

...

Darcy yawned and stretched, looking at the falling sun with distaste. She had no earthly clue how she had managed to stay awake all night dancing, but it sure had been fun. Miguel, very apologetic upon finding them again, had confesses he got distracted with a dance circle. He'd volunteered to take Piers home in penance.

The rest of them had stayed out for a few more hours, ending up at a little breakfast cafe with Lewis, exchanging numbers (Parvati gave Lewis her and Lavender's landline, as she didn't have a mobile).

Now, after sleeping most of the day, she was forced out of bed--literally, they kicked her!--by Lavender and Parvati for the Weasley family supper that she totally hadn't forgotten about at all. She was half tempted to show up in her pajamas out of sheer spite. 

Instead, she heaved herself off the floor, stomped pointedly to the closet, and stole Parvati's favorite red blouse. Lavender laughed. For that she took the best pair of Levis and a random jumper, then swept off to the Floo. Who cared about too-big, anyway?

It was only when she tumbled out of the Floo (magical transportation hated her, she just knew it. The grudge was mutual.) into Ron's practiced waiting arms that she realized she'd left her trainers in the parlor.

"Aww man," she whined, staring dejectedly at her feet. Everyone within earshot laughed at her. Including a bubbly baby giggle and a silvery-bright burble. 

She brightened instantly.

"There are my godbabies!" she cried, absently pecking a snickering Ron on the cheek as she hurried over to where Teddy and little newborn Victoire sat on Charlie's lap. 

"Gimme," she said, making grabby hands. Charlie, her main contender for infantile affection, mock-scowled and held them away. She tried very hard not to notice how good he looked with children in his muscly arms and a fang identical to Bill's hanging from his ear.

Teddy squeaked, "Dacy!" though, and the battle was won. She triumphantly swept the two into her arms as she sat herself on the couch, indolently putting her bare feet in Charlie's lap. He laughed.

"And how are you today, puppy? Hmm? And you, my little birdie?"

Teddy started babbling a mile a minute as he tugged on her curls. Every third word or so was a real one. Barely thirteen months old and almost talking in sentences! Wizards did mature faster than muggles for the first twenty-ish years of life, but even for a baby wizard that was impressive.

"You got your papa's genius, didn't you, puppy? I think you did!" 

Victoire popped a loud spit bubble. She could have sworn it sounded pointed. Darcy obligingly tickled her under the chin, which the infant just loved. 

"Don't think I was forgetting about this little princess, not at all! How could anyone? You're just too precious!"

Victoire beamed and promptly spat up on Lavender's jumper. Oops.

She quickly evanescoed the evidence, grinning good naturedly as everyone laughed, once again. Yep. Regular comedian, that was her. Shows Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday at three o'clock. 

"Let me, Darcy," Fleur laughed, scooping up her daughter. Together they looked like something from the airbrushed cover of a magazine, only 100% real. Fleur, even after giving birth only weeks prior, still put any model to shame. Even she wasn't immune to pregnancy weight gain, but she was loosing it fast and wore it well, looking soft and curvaceous rather than chubby.

"Guess it's just you and me now, pup," she said to Teddy, who sparkled up at her innocently. turning his hair as black and curly as hers. Two seconds later Andromeda appeared, smiling apologetically.

"I afraid not. It's nap time," she explained. And so Darcy was left baby-less and cold and so, so alone in the harsh cruel world-

Luna entered.

"Moonbeam!" Darcy called, delighted. Luna skipped over just as happily, wearing a darling crown of miniature sunflowers.

"Gift from Neville," she said as the flowers waved. Darcy stared to sit up properly so her friend had room, but Luna being Luna, she sat directly in Darcy's lap instead.

"How was the club?" she asked. 

"Don't be silly, Luna, Darcy would never go to a club of all places," Hermione said as she entered, always so very sure she was right. 

"It was quite lovely, actually," she told Luna. "Only two fights and three unconscious bodies." Dudley had fallen asleep at the end of it there.

"Good. Did you meet who you were supposed to?"

"Uh..." Darcy tilted her head. Miguel or Lewis?Hermione still didn't believe Luna was any sort of Seer, but Darcy had learned to pay attention to her words the hard way. "I think so, yes."

Luna hummed in contentment. 

"Darcy, you didn't really, did you? Oh, that was so irresponsible! What if your magic had acted up around all those muggles?"

"Well, it didn't," Darcy said shortly, crossing her arms around Luna, who was a very comforting weight. She was ashamed to have not even though of that. Stupid. She really _should_ have known better.

"That's not the point!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands up. She looked so exasperated that Darcy bristled. The heat made a minor appearance at the back of her throat. "It's a small miracle, yes, but you can't go on those all the time! Crowds, noise, strangers and PTSD--it's a recipie for disaster."

"Alright Hermione, I'm sorry. Can you drop it?" Darcy snapped. 

Hermione looked hurt.

Thankfully, an oblivious Molly chose that moment to call everyone to supper. There were so many of them that the kitchen table, another table in the living room, and all the couches and chairs were filled, and yet most of them teenagers still had to sit on the floor. 

Darcy didn't mind. The carpet was soft, the food delicious, and Luna a warm weight at her side. She and Hermione had both apologized to each other and chatted animatedly about the new Werewolf Rights Act they were currently focusing on in the Wizengamot.

With the remaining Malfoys throwing their weight behind it, progress was faster than ever. Lavender's organization, which helped provide resources such as Wolfsbane and a secure place for the full moon, had also gone a long way towards swaying public opinion in their favor. 

It was of great importance to everyone there. Werewolf rights affected this family more than most. Bill wasn't a full shifting wolf, but he liked his meat raw and found it hard to sleep at night and went feral on the full moon just like any werewolf. Teddy had yet to show any overt signs beyond a tendency to sleep more during the day, but he was half and half and would be affected no matter what. Little Victoire, even, while she only had trace amount of the lycanthropy curse, was condemned under current British Law.

It was discussing the act that brought up a whole new set of problems, one that finally set her suspicion towards Draco Malfoy to rest. After all... Even he wouldn't go as far as to start attacking his own kind, not when their fates were tied together. And yet, undiluted aconite had still found it's way into the water reserves of no less than four werewolves in the past _week,_ all while she'd been hiding away at Dudley's. Being useless and feeling sorry for herself. Why hadn't anyone contacted her? Why didn't Lavender or Parvati said something? 

It wasn't to be tolerated. Darcy knew it was rude, but she couldn't help leaving almost indeecently early. She told Molly she'd not stay the night after all. Darcy had to check on her friends; they were at risk! Luna's distant, worried eyes only motivated her more. The rest of Weasley and company understood and didn't hold it against her.

So she flooed to Lavender's flat. Gagged on a scream. And promptly shattered all the windows. 

They were _dead!_


	3. fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: went back and changed a few things to make Darcy a bit less wimpy. She's not a damsel in distress, guys, promise. Thank you to TheDFO for bringing these inaccuracies to my attention. :)

"They're not dead. They're not dead. They're not dead."

Darcy whispered this to herself as she paced up and down St. Mungos' waiting room. The liquid heat was boiling now, a comforting sear across every inch of her skin. It had never been so strong, and Darcy did not care one bit that she felt five seconds from bursting into flame. Hermione said nothing was wrong with her, so nothing was wrong. And so she paced, and she chanted, and she burned.

"I'm sorry Darcy, I can't tell you they'll all pull through. But they're strong willed and young and that makes all the difference in the world. Don't give up yet." 

That was what Andromeda had told her. There was hope, and she refused to give it up. Aconite poisoning was no joke, but her friends were tough. They would get better, they _would_. Darcy didn't know what she would do otherwise.

Lavender and Parvati were her first friends! Start struck at first, but they got over it quickly after seeing the remnants of one of Vernon's more painful parting whacks. And then so kind, always, where a critical Hermione frightened her and tall Ron's boyish face had only brough back memories of run run run. They were silly, girly, shallow at times. They whispered about other people and giggled when she was trying to concentrate. They were brave, loyal, kind. Loving and smart and strong. So, so strong. 

"Please Loki," she whispered. "Merlin. Morganna. Mordred, Hecate, Circe. Kurukulla. Heka. Oberon. Please, Magic, let them live."

In the corner, Padma clutched her boyfriend Terry, disheveled and wide eyed and utterly still. The only time she moved was to flinch when a Healer stepped inside. On the other side of the room Lavender's mother clutched a torrid romance novel she couldn't pretend to read anymore. Worst of all, in the far corner stood Draco Malfoy, who Darcy still loathed even if she was no longer convinced he was evil. She wanted to go punch him again, just to satisfy the itch in her bones demanding bloody retribution.

Finally Mrs Brown, a rather scantily dressed witch to whom Terry had given his over-robe, had enough.

"Miss Potter! Will you sit down?! You're driving everyone mad!"

Well, she certainly didn't seem to have an overabundance of respect for the lauded "Victor of Magic" (as those idiots were calling her). Padma and Terry gasped in unision, and even Malfoy, one of the few people who would still call her Scarhead, let out an annoyingly surprised little "huh".

"No," Darcy growled. Literally. The heat swelled and swelled and popped and a strange, almost living _thing_ bubbled from her chest, more energy burst than proper sound. It wasn't even startling. It washed over her comfortably, like pulling on a favorite jumper. Her skin tingled pleasantly all over. She felt like it had always been there, quiet and dormant, sleeping in the hollow of her throat, pooling passively in her chest cavity, sighing the occasional burst of fury into her blood and strength into her bones. 

And she knew she was out of it when she started getting poetic. Distantly, Darcy recognized people were gasping and leaning away--maybe at her rudeness, maybe her magic was doing that stupid pulsing thing--and then Malfoy spoke. 

"Potter," he said. "Potter, you're _glowing!"_

"Shut up!" she snarled purely out of habit. Then she looked down and broke her resolution not to swear.

She was glowing. Like fire.

Her skin was bright coppery red.

She--!

She could see the outline of her own bones! Her veins were thrumming with warm light. There--there were _claws_ at the tips of her fingers! Claws! Short, gently curved razor sharp translucent shimmery claws!

"What the fluff," she whispered, her voice an unfamiliar husky rumble, and promptly passed out. 

When Darcy opened her eyes again she refused to look down, even though she desperately wanted to. But she knew if she did, it would be the distraction of a life time. 

There was a medi-witch in the corner. 

"Excuse me," Darcy said, not pausing one bit to freak out about how low and rumbly her voice was, nope, not one bit. "My friends are here." 

The woman jumped and turned. She looked familiar, but Darcy couldn't quite place her.

"My Lady!" she yelped, and what? That was a new one. 

"Erm. Yes, hello. Their names are Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Violet Brown, could you please check in on them, or ask someone who knows?"

Darcy sounded so calm. She had no idea why. She was about to pass out again, but she needed to make sure they were okay first. Another thought struck her.

"Are there guards posted outside the werewolf ward?" she asked. The medi-witch was hesitating.

"I--well, I don't think so milady. Do you want...?" She trailed off. 

"Yes," Darcy said firmly. "At least two. Contact Dennis Creevey at the Auror office. Now, are my friends alright?"

"I'll go check right now, milady." And then the extremely odd medi-witch scurried away with an actual _curtsey_. Strange woman. 

Darcy stared resolutely up at the ceiling tiles and started counting. She would embark on the hardest quest of her life yet. She would control her ping-ponging thoughts and not think about copper skin and glowing veins and crystal-like nails-

-or she might as well not think of pink elephants for all the good it did her. Da-ang it! Or, hey, she could spend her time thinking up awesome faux curse words. Fluff was her current favorite. Fudge could work too. Blubber was too close to the real one, so was was booger. Bubbles could be fun, just to see the looks on people's faces. Buckets had a nice angry ring to it. 

"Milady?" Darcy bolted upright. 

"Yes! Are they okay?"

"They're alive, ma'am, all of them. Ms Patil woke briefly, asking for her twin. Their conditions have improved drastically, particularly that of the little one. All three are expected to recover fully. And..." She paused, eyes shining.

Darcy's heart was in her throat. Was it a good and or a bad and?!

"We found _this_ on the bedside table." The medi-witch waved her wand and the image of a small calling card appeared in the air. It was pure gold and shining, with an etching of a helmet with long, wickedly curved horns. Snakes slithered, flicking out their tongues, all along the borders.

Darcy felt her breath leave her.

"Loki," she whispered, tears picking her eyes.

"Yes," the other witch said just as reverently. "He heard the prayers of the mourning."

The Wizarding World no longer believed Loki was a deity, of course. The Æsir were no gods; they were from another world. A world that had birthed the first wizards as well, no matter how indirectly. Darcy still remembered how incredulous she felt when she heard it, how sure that it was only a story. It sounded like a myth! Seemed even more like one, considering the story was told by the Gryffindor Prefects as the whole House gathered around the fire. 

But no. When the first Æsir died in battle on Earth, the ancestors of Magic were "born of the star dust and energy that form in the wake of a Æsir's passing". Truthfully what had happened was this: when as Æsir died, their magical core disintegrated, converting some of that energy into matter in a nuclear reaction. The Æsir in question ldo not loose consciousness even as they are dead, and usually they can direct the explosion along with them into the next plane of existence. All that can be seen is a glimmer of light, like a cluster of stars, hence the "star dust".

But with Buri, his mind was not his own. And so the explosion happened right there on Earth. Wizarding historians thought that the last stand of King Buri was what really wiped out the dinosaurs. The radiation, though, that highly magical radiation was what formed magical creatures. Dragons were the first, born of the few dinosaurs that didn't die. Then wizards, the eldest of all sapient and sentient magical beings. 

But that was not the reason they revered Loki specifically. No, that came thousands upon thousands of years later, a or so century past the creation of Hogwarts when the build-up of magical radiation within the core, which generated it, was starting to deteriorate. Magic, in a word, was dying, killing wizards with it. Nobody knew why. But who else was to come up with a solution but a young Loki Odinson, against the wishes of his own Father, the King? Not only that, but he simultaneously revealed to them the true origins of Magic on Earth and the presence of millions of other worlds.

So, no, he was not their god. But he was their Patron, their defender and protector. Forbidden though he was from returning to them, magic was will made tangible, and through the connection Loki had with them, he would hear their more desperate pleas. He found ways to help, though no one had seen him since he sacrificed his own blood, pain, and magic to save the Wizarding World from slow decay. They owed Loki _everything_.

Darcy was silent, eyes closed for several long moments as she remembered the familiar words washing over her, remembered reciting them herself to Teddy as he laid down to sleep, telling an incredulous Dudley over his kitchen table only months ago. 

When she opened her eyes, she found the medi-witch in a similar state. She smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. They looked at each other and laughed, connected in shared awe and respect. 

"What's your name? I know I've seen you before," Darcy said, and the strange timbre of her own voice brought her back to reality. 

"I'm Astoria Greengrass, milady," the woman said, cheeks going pink.

"Well, Astoria, you can just call me Darcy," she tried. Astoria smiled knowingly. 

"Of course, Lady Darcy. I'll tell the Healer you're awake. He should be only a moment." 

And then she turned and left, Darcy snickering behind her, because the _cheek_! But the humming undertone to her laughter reminded her that there were no other distractions or priorities. Just her and her strange new skin. Her strange new self.

Which begged the question... Her father or her mother? But no, it couldn't have been James. The Potter's were an old family; people would know if creature magic ran in their blood. So it was Lily, her sweet, brave not-actually-a-Muggleborn mother. 

Darcy slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, not looking down. She made her way towards the full-length mirror left very considerately in the room, facing away from the hospital bed. She stepped in front of it. 

Her first thought was that the being in the glass was beautiful, in an abstract sort of way. As if she were looking at a painting and not her own reflection. But she waved her hand and so did the image before her. The feeling passed.

Her skin was lighter now, copper and gold, not so red, and glimmered metallic in the light. Her veins formed a web of softly glowing lines, a few shades paler than the rest of her. Even her facial structure looked different, and that was by far the most frightening part. Darcy had always looked more like her father, and, well, she supposed that still held true.

But her mother's features were changed. The inheritance carved her cheekbones into living proof of the phrase "sharp enough to cut", bone forming ridges that came to a delicate point. They were covered in bumpy patches of darker reddish skin that felt like scales under her finger tips. And when she smiled, the expression tremulous, her newly full, newly dark red lips split into a smile wider than seemed natural, and revealed rows of long, pointed white teeth. Her gums and tongue were a handful of shades darker than her lips, nearly black. 

Darcy started to reach for the liquid fire, and was shocked to find that it was everywhere, with a concentration of it pooling around her heart. It was no longer an outside presence exerting influence on her; it _was_ her, as much as her blood and magic and bones.

The only things unchanged were her eyes, her, hair, and her height. Still green, still curly, still short. The least she could have gotten out of this inheritance was a few more inches, but apparently genetics decided she needed glowy skin and high cheekbones more. Obviously Lavender and Parvati's fault. They seemed to think being a hundred and fifty five centimeters, barely over five feet, was cute, somehow. 

Darcy burst into tears just as the Healer entered the room.

"Oh! Milady, no! Tell me where it hurts!"

It was an awkward visit. Healer Whelan was an older fellow, which could be anywhere between sixty and three hundred with wizards, and after he stopped panicking, he would blush every time she asked him a question. He acted as if she knew better than him, nevermind his decades of experience in non-wizard magical inheritances. That _and_ the fact that Darcy was an nineteen year old girl with more luck than skill. Honestly, with the way he kept demuring, she would rather learn from the pamphlets than him. 

Healer Whelan suggested she stay another week, a hopeful light in his eyes. Darcy demanded, in her best "I am a Malfoy and my father will hear about this" voice, to be released immediately. 

"Of course milady, of course! I've always said that the patient is the one that knows their own inheritance best." He folded like wet paper. 

"Right," Darcy said shortly, cutting off another rant about her wisdom and grace and blah blah blah. "Just tell me what I need to do to go home alread." 

"Naturally, naturally! I've taken the liberty of creating a list, if the Lady Potter doesn't-"

"Mind reading one like everyone else?" she snapped, and regretted it immediately. 

"No! No milady, I'm so sorry, I never meant to imply-" he babbled, wringing his hands. 

"No, I know you didn't. I'm sorry," she said, and that only set him off again about how she had no need to apologize. Darcy tuned the Healer out, looking over the hand written list and frowning. 

_ The Lady Elizabeth Darcy Potter _

~ Extreme cold sensitivity--suggest permanent warming charm if staying in Great Britain

~ Heat manipulation, tied strongly to emotions

~ Unknown diet; carnivorous suggested by shape of teeth and jaw

~ Amphibious (?)--lungs hold structures similar to certain water dwelling dragons designed to separate oxygen from water

~ Ability to use magic is not affected, other than an inclination towards fire spells and other forms of heat energy

The list went on about different tests to perform to find more about her inheritance, ways of coping with the dramatic changes, and cited resources on everything from fire magic to living underwater. Darcy was impressed. _Here_ was the man's intelligence; he must have known he'd become a sputtering mess upon seeing her and wrote down everything she could possibly think to ask. Except one...

"Healer Whelan?" she said. "Why do you call me a Lady? The Potters aren't a noble family."

"No, indeed not. But the Blacks are, and you are officially the head of the family as of your recent inheritance."

"But why?"

He frowned a little, and Darcy realized this was one of those things everyone knew. 

"Well, the Blacks had a rather strong gift themselves, and so one of the conditions for an heir becoming lady or lord is coming into that inheritance. Yours is not the same, of course, but the criteria has been met." 

"Oh," Darcy said dumbly. She never knew Sirius had creature blood. Why hadn't he told her? And did he know about her own inheritance? What else had been kept from her, if her own nature had? Suddenly she felt exhausted, as if her bones had turned to lead. She wanted home. 

"Can I go home now?" she asked, voice uncomfortably small. 

Healer Whelan's eyes softened immediately. 

"Of course, milady," he said. "I understand how draining this is." He held out a hand and Darcy took it with little wariness. He seemed to have gotten over his starstruck phase. 

"Don't worry my dear. This seems strange and new, but it isn't really. This part of you has always been there. It's just that magic has only now decided to let others in on the secret as well. Adjusting will be easier than you fear, I promise," the Healer said, squeezing her hand gently. 

"How do you know?"

He chuckled. 

"I've been in your shoes, milady. And I have spent almost sixty years helping other young witches and wizards through this process."

Marginally comforted, Darcy remembered how right the liquid fire had felt, how she hadn't even noticed its permanence at first. Maybe he was right. But Darcy had always been the exception to every rule. Why should that be any different now?

"Thank you," she said nevertheless and stood up. She found her wand still strapped snugly to her arm and quickly summoned her bag and clothing. She pulled out a thick winter cloak and applied a warming charm, mindful about what the note said. 

Still, it was like being hit with a bucket of ice water when Darcy stepped out of the temperature-regulated hospital room. Shivers spread across her body and she cast another charm, and then a third for good measure.

"Will I be able to take the Floo?"

"Yes, milady. Your transformation has been remarkably stable. I wouldn't try apparating farther than a kilometer or so for at least two days, but that's it."

"Okay. Well, er, thank you Healer." And then, calling card fresh in her mind, she added: "May Loki be with you."

His eyes shone. "And with you, Lady Potter."

Darcy's answered smile felt awkward, a little uncomfortable with his formal bow. She was happy to make her way to the private Floo just down the hall. With a relative of Lavender Brown as witness, news of her heritage would have spread clear to France by morning. But for now, she just wanted one night to go home, hug Dudley, eat everything in the fridge, and fall asleep in the bathtub. And hey! If the doc was right, there was no need for Hermione to worry about her drowning. That was--that was something at least. 

The fire of the Floo felt chilly instead of warm at she stepped through and called, "Lion's Den!"

She stumbled out of the fireplace she had specially installed and fell flat on her bum. Someone screamed, which made Darcy grab for her wand, and Dudley to swear loudly. 

"You-you-you _Darcy_?!" Darcy froze, standing in attack mode, with her wand brandished directly at the heart of Fiona Lewis, who had clearly just been snogging her cousin. 

" _Buckets_."


	4. retribution

Darcy curled on the couch, buried under three coats and every blanket in the house. She had eaten every last scrap of meat, cooked or not, and attacked the nuts and berries in the trail mix Miguel gave Dudley. She was still longing for the bathtub nap, but it would have to wait. 

Across from her, Fiona still had yet to blink, or indeed move at all, as Dudley fumbled through a basic explanation of the Wizarding World. 

"Are-" she began haltingly. "Are you a wizard too? Do you turn, er, orange?"

"No! No, I'm just normal, like you. My mum was adopted, I think."

"Oh. Okay. Um. I don't- are all wizards orange? Is that normal?"

"Sort of," Darcy said, something curdling inside her when both muggles flinched at the dual-toned purr of her voice. She understood. She sounded like some inhuman seductive devil from the telly, convincing them to sell their souls or something equally terrible. 

"Wizards aren't the only magical creatures on Earth. And sometimes we'll intermarry, and then that blood is passed down in the family. It can manifest at any time, especially the most inconvenient ones. This is mine, apparently." Oops, did that sound bitter?

"So you haven't always been..."

"Glowy? Clawed? Scaled? Immune to fire? Possibly amphibious?" she listed hysterically. "No, this is all new as of... oh, about six hours ago. I don't even know what I am!" 

"Oh. Oh, you poor thing," Fiona murmured, her face crumpling. She stood and hugged Darcy firmly through the many blankets. She exchanged a wide eyed look with her cousin. That was it? A few shaky questions and then straight to hugging like nothing had ever happened?

"Marry this woman," Darcy barked at Dudley before she could think better of it. "Or _I_ will."

"...You're not queer, Darcy."

"No, but we can be queer _platonic,_ " she retorted. "It'll be great. I'm down if you are, Lewis."

She laughed and pulled back. "I think we're officially on a first name basis if you feel comfortable enough proposing," she said. No offense or confusion or fear. Acceptance. _Humor_. 

No, that wasn't a lump in her throat. It was just a new part of her biology, like the scales and pointy teeth. 

"Actually, we're probably to the point where we have sickeningly cute nicknames," Darcy said to cover up how stupidly emotional she was getting. "Isn't that right, Fifi?"

"But of course, Cece," Fiona joked back, and then they both burst into laughter. It wasn't even that funny. She still ended up laughing until her stomach hurt and viscous tears that were very much not water welled up in her eyes.

"I don't understand," Dudley said at last, looking between them with a furrowed brow. 

That, of course, only made them laugh harder. Fiona actually had to clutch Darcy's shoulder to stay on the couch, and wow, she hadn't laughed like this in months, probably. After several minutes, the cackles slowed to the occasional giggle as Dudley waited with exasperated patience. 

"Is it a girl thing?" he asked. 

Darcy snorted so hard it hurt. A small sort of _hatch_ in her windpipe opened up, just above her lungs. She hadn't even noticed it existed until that second, when it snapped open and something spicy and warm filled her sinuses. Promptly, a jet of flame shot out of her nose. 

It tickled pleasantly. And lit several things on fire. Dudley and Fiona jumped up, but Darcy just patted out the flames with her bare hands and sighed. There was no use being surprised anymore, was there? 

"I'm going to go sleep in the bathtub now," she informed them, standing up and waddling with her blanket burrito towards the bathroom. "Goodnight."

"Wait! What about the Obliviators? Won't they come?"

"Oooh," Darcy said. "Right, possibly. Well, everybody knows you're my cousin. If they show up, just say she's your girlfriend, soon to be fiancé. That'll be allowed under Sec-section six." 

She yawned. 

"Yeah. Anyway, 'night for real this time."

"But it's almost morning." 

"Do I care?" Darcy shut the door with finality. She dropped the blankets, whining at the cold, and turned the hot water on full blast. With a little magic it was kept temperature stable and Darcy happily stripped and jumped inside. 

It felt...nice enough. A little over lukewarm. Darcy did not want lukewarm. So she jabbed her wand at the water and snapped a spell to start it boiling. Healer Whelan said she was impervious to heat, right? 

Darcy almost groaned in absolute delight as the heat sunk into her bones. Almost, because instead a deep, involuntary purr burst from deep in her chest. She didn't even care about how weird it was. For the first time in years she was warm! Darcy had always been cold, wearing jumpers even in the summer, and now she supposed she knew why. But now she was warm. 

Breathing out slowly, Darcy slid deeper in the tub until her mouth was submerged. It took several moments of psyching herself up before she could actually bring herself to inhale, and there was an awkward moment of both air and water in her lungs that made her think she wasn't amphibious after all. But as soon as she got all the air out, Darcy could breathe just fine. It felt lovely, the boiling water in her lungs.

She was asleep in seconds. 

And woke rudely, heaving water from her lungs, as an almighty crash, Dudley's familiar battle cry, and an angry shriek slapped her back to awareness. Darcy bolted from the tub and yanked on Lavender's jumper, easily long enough to cover the essentials. She emerged just in time to see Fiona Lewis break an end table over Ulrich Rosier's head and Dudley get kicked in the gut by Agustus Rookwood. He went flying, all 200 lbs of muscle and bone. Fiona shrieked again. 

" _Stupefy_!" Darcy bellowed, and Rosier fell flat on his face. Rookwood was moving before his partner hit the ground. His wand whipped in a graceful arc, and Darcy threw herself to the side. Mid-roll, she snapped off a another stunner. He blocked it, but it gave her enough time to bolt to her feet.

 _Oppongo_. The shattered glass behind him rose up and attacked. Several bit into his skin before he blasted them into sand. She tried to disarm him, but he surprised her by hurling a Killing Curse towards the fallen muggles.

"NO!" She slashed her wand violently; every available piece of rubble flew to intercept the curse, just in time. 

Darcy turned her attention back to Rookwood, too slow. An enormous fiery whip snapped from his wand tip and wrapped around her tightly.

Darcy grinned.

"Wrong move," she said, singsong, and without quite knowing how she did it, burst the whip into curls of smoke. Rookwood's eyes went wide, and this time he was the slow one. Her blasting curse caught him in the shoulder and he spun to the ground in a bloody heap. 

Darcy lunged after him, firing off one of Ginny's best hexes, but Rookwood rolled towards her instead of away like she anticipated. His massive hand curled around her ankle and pulled. Her follow-up hex seared a hole in the roof.

Darcy struggled to get some distance but Rookwood had already wrestled her wand away and she was never going to win in a contest of strength. Rookwood pinned her with a knee on her chest and crap, she could barely breathe--

Thwack. 

"Hey ugly!" Fiona yelled, voice cracking with strain. She hurled another chunk of rubble, but it skittered across the ground by Darcy instead. Rookwood, stunned her without blinking. Darcy scrambled for something to hit him with. 

Her fingers brushed cool plastic instead. _Taser_. Darcy searched for a button or trigger, lifted it and jabbed towards Rookwood's thick neck. He seized up, shaking, and keeled over sideways. Still awake. Darcy sprung for her wand. She whipped around and cursed the Death Eater unconscious just as he rose to one knee. Rookwood fell and was still.

Darcy exhaled shakily, and trapped him in a body-bind for good measure. She rushed over to Dudley, who was awake and trying to see to Fiona despite being unable to sit up.

"She's fine. Stunned," Darcy explained as she eased Dudley's shirt up to look at the wound. Red pushing purple, and squishy. Probably internal bleeding.

"Okay," Darcy said. "This is fine. We've had way worse than this. Remember that time we ran away when we were fifteen? You almost got eaten by a Dementor. I swear Vernon looked worried when we came home. Wife Number Four actually screamed. That's how bad it was, so obviously, one kick in the stomach isn't going to do what Dementors couldn't."

"Fiona," Dudley rasped. 

"Oh!" Darcy said, jolting. " _Ennervate_."

Fiona practically vaulted upright, without so much as a gasp or pained moan, no matter how much her muggle muscles should have burning from that kind of magical stasis. 

"Dudley!" she yelped. "Is he--?"

"Fine," Darcy repeated. She walked to the Floo and stuck her head inside.

"Granger home. Hermione, I need you here."

She stepped back and Ron and Hermione swept out moments later. Ron immediately wrapped Darcy in a warm hug, no sign of surprise at how she looked. She melted happily into the contact, suddenly aware of just how freezing she was. Hermione hurried to where Dudley lay sprawled, Fiona clutching his hand. 

"Broken ribs," she reported. "Some internal bleeding, severe bruising. He'll be fine. No hospitals needed."

She waved her wand in complicated patterns, muttering a constant stream of words, and then gave him a potion from her bottomless bag. Within five minutes all evidence was gone. Fiona gaped when Dudley climbed easily to his feet. 

"Thanks, Granger," Dudley said. Hermione, who had never quite mastered forgiving her grudges, nodded a little coldly.

"You--wow. How did you do that?" Fiona asked, eyes round.

"Magic," Hermione said, looking closely as Fiona now. 

"Obviously. But _how_? Do the spells exert an outside force on the body, replicating cells and healing tissue without the body's input? Or do they speed up the natural healing process exponentially? And if they do, are you somehow feeding the body the extra energy it needs to heal so rapidly? Because he should be exhausted, but is clearly fine--"

Darcy giggled into Ron's chest as Hermione brightened like the sun and launched into a detailed technical breakdown of healing spells and energy transfer. Fiona looked fascinated, though Darcy noticed she still hadn't let go of Dudley's hand. He didn't seem to mind. 

"I should probably get dressed," Darcy said, pulling away when she felt she had used up her quota of insistent cuddling. 

"Alright. I'll get started cleaning this up and talk to the Obliviators once they finally get here, the lazy sods."

Darcy cast another warming charm as she went. She grabbed a fresh change of winter clothes and an extra cloak she'd used as a blanket the night before. By the time Darcy walked back into the main room some time later (she'd gotten quite distracted looking at her new self in the mirror) everything was perfectly clean. The Death Eaters were tied up in the corner where everyone could see them. 

She sat down next to Hermione, still in lecture-mode, and her friend wrapped her arm around Darcy. She sank into the embrace. They passed a surprisingly lazy few minutes as they waited for the Ministry to get its act together, chatting and sipping on drinks as they introduced Fiona to the finer aspects of the Wizarding World. 

"Can I come see it?" she asked, longing clear in her eyes. Darcy was reminded abruptly of Snape's memories of Petunia Evans, the aunt she never knew. Petunia had wished so desperately to go to Hogwarts and explore magic with her little sister, wanted with almost obsessive desperation to keep Lily safe.

She thought of the slow rift that had eventually split them apart, guilty jealousy and anger and broken trust, of one sister marrying a wizard, the other an abusive business man. Both vanished from off the face of the earth a year later, Lily murdered and Petunia simply gone without a trace. Police ruled it a suicide; Darcy suspected Death Eaters. Vernon thought she ran off with another man and proceeded to take it out on both Dudley and Darcy.

Either way, Darcy still found herself opening her mouth and blurting:

"Of course you can." All wizards and Dudley looked at her in shock. Given her experiences in the past with muggles and magic mixing, she was usually one of the bigger advocates for keeping the worlds firmly separate. Her motto was "family only knows of the truth". But Fiona was different in almost every way. Darcy had a good feeling about it. 

"Darcy, are you sure--"

"She can play Dudley's fiancé," Darcy said, waving a glittery clawed hand. "If neither of them mind."

"But the law," Hermione protested.

Darcy laughed. 

"Aw, Hermione. As sad as it is to say, I don't think anyone here cares overly much about laws. Even you, and don't you deny it."

"I don't care about corrupt law, no," Hermione said pointedly. "But we all know that this one exists for a good reason, despite the possibility of abuse!"

"Fiona saved my life. Twice. As far as I'm concerned she already _is_ family."

And...That was that. Nobody had a chance to say more, because the Obliviators and two Aurors apparated in, bloody and covered with dust and grime. 

"Lady Potter." Dennis Creevey nodded, his eyes tired and glazed. "Weasley. Granger. Those two?"

"No, family," Darcy responded, and the Obliviators nodded and left to get the neighbors who might have seen something past the wards. "What happened to you lot?"

"Old families had a fit when news spread about your inheritance. Er, congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," she said automatically, keeping an eye on the unfamiliar Auror securing Rookwood and Rosier. 

"Anyway, it drew out more hidden Death Eaters than anything, even that Werewolf Rights bill of yours. We've been out non-stop since news spread."

"I see. Glad to be of service, I guess."

He nodded once, and stiffly crossed to lay his hand on the shoulder of his partner. Darcy quietly mourned the happy, talkative boy who once shouted to the whole school that he'd fallen in the lake and met the Giant Squid. 

They vanished with a crack. 

"...What are Death Eaters?" Darcy tuned out Hermione's answer, reminded suddenly of her hurt friends, lying in the hospital right now while she drank coco and chatted like everything was fine. 

"I'm going back to the Hospital," she said. Dudley sharpened immediately, looking her over for injuries. 

"Are you--?"

"No, but Lav, Parvati and Violet had a run in with aconite. Someone's been targeting werewolves and their families." 

Five minutes and a disturbingly delicious raw steak later, she stumbled out of St Mungos' Floo. Knowing how some wizards saw creature inheritances, she was braced and ready for everything from cruel whispers to an outright attack. 

What she didn't expect was applause. The entire waiting room leapt to their feet, clapping and cheering and what the _fluff_? It was traditional for those who weren't disgusted to celebrate when an inheritance manifested, but this was completely ridiculous! It was like the months after Voldie all over again! Merlin's beard, all she'd done was turn orange and sprout claws!

"Er, thanks. Thank you," she mumbled awkwardly to every bow and curtsey and awed comment. Finally Darcy made it to the front desk.

"Hi. I'm here for Brown and Patil."

"Of course! Right this way, Lady Potter!" 

Darcy was fairly certain that receptionists were supposed to stay at the desk, but the tall red haired man--very obviously a Weasley relation of sone kind--puffed out his chest just like Percy and looked so proud of himself. She kept her mouth shut for once. Just because he was a Weasley. A familiar one too...

"I've met you before," she decided. The poor man tripped over his feet.

"Yes! I didn't think you'd remember! I- I was at cousin Bill's Wedding."

"That's right! You played the lyre. Barry, right?"

"Yes!" he squeaked, and proceeded to gush about how gracious she was to remember his 'lowly person'. Darcy smiled and nodded and was quietly grateful when they reached the right room.

She knocked the DA code against the door and burst inside before Lavender finished the "come" of come in.

"Lav! Vati! Vi!"

And she did her level best to sweep the lot of them in a hug, crawling onto the shared mattress. She might have cried. Okay, she did cry. A lot. But she kep her tears from falling on her friends because they were definitely not water and she didn't know what they might do to human skin.

"Darcy," Parvati whispered in her ear. "I know who did it." 

Darcy started to pull back, but Parvati and Lavender pinned her in place. She went very still, getting the message. They were being watched. It wasn't _safe_ to speak openly. The familiar aura of oppression and secrecy made a low growl build in her chest.

"Who?" she breathed, barely more than air given shape. Parvati shifted so her mouth was even closer to Darcy's strange, pointy ear.

"Dennis Creevey. I heard him talking when we were still in comas. I think--I hope he's been confounded." Fire boiled in Darcy's stomach. She nodded tightly and pulled back. 

"I'll find whoever did this to you," she vowed, and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads without quite knowing why. They startled, and somehow Darcy wasn't surprised to see a faint glow sinking into their skin. Because apparently her kisses were magic now.

The weight of her promise settled over her shoulders, not like the chains of an Unbreakable Vow but like a mantle of responsibility. An honor. After all, it would be Darcy's absolute pleasure and privilege to hunt down and destroy whoever had enchanted her friend, poisoned her family, and attacked innocent werewolves all around the country. When she caught up with them, she was going to make dear cousin Bellatrix at her worst look tame. 


	5. hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been a long time coming. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warning: violence and psychopaths

_Dennis Creevey,_ Darcy thought. Confounded or not confounded, anger licked at her stomach and up the sides of her throat. She breathed shallowly, because with every deep breath that little fire-hatch in her throat would crack open. Smoke and sparks poured from her nose at regular intervals regardless. They settled, still smouldering, in her eyelashes and hair. 

Needless to say, Darcy was given a wider berth than usual as she stalked down the Ministry corridors. 

_Dennis Creevey_ , she thought again _, You had better hope you're confounded. Or your head is_ mine, _little man._

She stomped right past the Minister's secretary and banged the door open. Kingsley looed up from his work, apparently undisturbed.

"Ah, Lady Potter. I thought I felt you coming."

"Dennis Creevey is behind the attacks," she said immediately, and a spray of embers accompanied the words. Kingsley dropped his quill and barely seemed to notice she'd set his top layer of paperwork on fire.

"Explain," he ordered, extinguishing the blaze with a wave of his hand. He was on his feet in an instant. Darcy felt a thrill of dark satisfaction at the anger in his kindly eyes. 

"He came to gloat. About how Lavender and her family would be dead soon, before Loki's miracle. And I hope to Magic he's been confounded, not..." She trailed off. 

"Imperiused or a traitor," Kingsley said. 

She nodded.

"If he came to gloat, why didn't he finish the dirty work then?" he asked. 

"Dunno, doesn't matter! We need to move, now."

"Alright. I'll prepare a team to-"

"I want to go," she interrupted. "I'm _going_ to go."

"Lady Potter," he said warningly, but Darcy brushed off the frown and disapproval.

"With respect Minister, you really can't stop me."

"I can try," Kingsley said.

"You can also deal with the resulting riots, keeping the 'Girl Who Lived' from avenging her friends," she retorted. "I'm not trying to threaten you, Kingsley. But Creevey went after my family. If you think you're going to keep me from figuring out why, you're wrong."

He was silent for several long moments, dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he sighed.

"If nothing else, Potter, you're good for keeping my ego down. I'm deploying you with Weasley and Finnegan. Don't mess it up."

And if her answering salute was a wee bit sarcastic, well, he started it. 

Within twenty minutes, she was strapping on leather arm guards and fancy Auror robes. The boots were her favorite part. They were thick but lightweight, dragonhide with steel plating in the toes. Darcy imagined kicking the murdering, cowardly swine with them as she tied the laces. 

"This almost makes me wish I hadn't gone into politics after all," she told Ron, shifting her weight experimentally.

"No it doesn't," he said. 

"No, it doesn't," she said with a small laugh. "It'd probably have been safer, though."

"Without a doubt," Seamus snorted. He smiled grimly at her. "Ready?"

"Always," she said, weak wisps of humor giving way to hard determination. Darcy was going to find who did this and light their face on fire.

"That's the spirit! Now, remember, no lethal attacks. For one, he might be enchanted. For another, there could very well be more than one person involved and--"

"Got it," Darcy said. She grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, threw it into the fireplace, and was gone nearly before Ron's exasperated groan hit her ears. She emerged into a slightly shabby parlor area. 

"Hey Den?" she called lightly. "It's Darcy. You home, mate?"

Ron and Seamus Flooed in behind her silently, hidden under chameleon charms. 

"Den? Hellooo!"

"Lady Potter? What's--"

He fell flat on his back, stiff as a board, as three hexes hit him at once. Darcy prowled forward, wand at the ready.

"Expelliarmus. Incarcerous. Rennervate."

Darcy pocketed Creevey's wand and watched dispassionately as he gasped his way into consciousness. Technically you weren't supposed to stun and revive someone in such quick succession, but she found it really hard to care right then.

"Hi Dennis," she said conversationally. "So, we know you were the one who attacked Lav and Parvati's family. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're confounded. Cooperate, and you'll be cured. Struggle and that's your admission of guilt."

A lie. But to cure a Confundo, the really strong ones that didn't just wear off, you needed some form of consent or the victim's mind might tear itself apart from conflicting urges. He needed the incentive.

Something flickered in Creevey's eyes, like a light switch being turned off, and he went blank. His features contorted and Dennis spat in her face. Literally. As her temper surged, the spit sizzled off of her cheek and Darcy leveled her wand at his heart.

"Filthy half-breed!" he shrieked in a voice not his own. She stunned Dennis...or, whoever was speaking through his mouth.

"That was possession," she said tightly. Ron paled and Seamus swore. 

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Darcy had seen and felt it enough times to leave no doubt in her mind. Her only consolation was that whoever was running around possessing people and killing werewolves, it wasn't Voldemort. He wouldn't waste time exposing himself and playing around with werewolves; he'd go for the kill, strike before anyone knew he was back.

"Is it--?"

"No," she said, guessing who Seamus meant by the half-terrified, half-determined look on his face. "No, definitely not. You think we'd still be alive, then? But we still have a powerful dark spirit running around possessing people."

"Not anymore," Ron pointed out. "We've got them right here."

Darcy shook her head.

"I bet whoever was controlling him jumped ship the moment after they were found out. Let's just get him back to the Ministry."

Ron levitated Dennis through the Floo and Darcy was struck how young and small he looked. He should have been finishing up Hogwarts, joking with his classmates and playing with his beloved Giant Squid. Not here, an Auror in his own right, recovering from possession by an unknown entity. 

The bitterness the thought brought didn't leave her as she spat "Possesion" to the Minister and stomped right back through the fireplace.

Darcy threw herself out of the Floo with a growl. Fiona, who apparently wasn't leaving for the night, lurched to her feet across the room but it was too hot for her to get close. Darcy tried to tone it down, imagined squishing the flames in her chest, but she couldn't. 

A low, strangled yowling sound ripped through the air and it took a second to realize it was her making that noise. She kicked an armchair furiously and sat on the ground. Distantly, she knew Fiona was calling for Dudley, and Dudley was Flooing Luna. She felt more than saw Luna's bright, gentle presence approach. It was instantly soothing. Darcy looked up just in time for her friend to freeze.

Her eyes went glazed, distant, and Darcy had about 0.2 seconds to realize what was happening before Luna lunged. She moved with none of her usual grace and still managed to knock Darcy and the couch over in one move. Delicate hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed with every ounce of Pureblood-bred strength. 

Darcy clawed at them with one hand while the other went for her wand, scoring bloody lines in soft skin, but Luna wouldn't let go. She was shouting, pale eyes fever-bright. Darcy couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears, and the scream of betrayal even when she knew it wasn't true--

Her fingers brushed smooth wood. She cast the first spell that came to mind--Wingardiun Leviosa--and Luna flew into the air. Fiona fired the taser. Darcy rolled over and away, gasping desperately.

Above her, Luna stopped fighting and went limp. Darcy let her slump to the floor. Dudley rushed to Darcy's side, but Fiona stayed put. She kept the taser pointed at Luna, who didn't move. 

"Are you alright?! I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called her, I'm sorry--"

On and on Dudley went, babbling in a very uncharacteristic way. Darcy shoved him away and buried her face in her hands. This was the second time already, and she hadn't even found out Dennis was possessed more than fifteen minutes earlier. It clearly wasn't an accident, and the possessing spirit could clearly use some form of magical transport and _was this going to be her life now?_

Friends in danger, innocents being slaughtered, not even capable of trusting her own family? She couldn't do it, not again, not like before! It would drive her mad. Darcy snarled, caught between denial and fury and pure dread.

"Darcy. Darcy, I need you to listen. Can you hear me? It's Fiona. You're safe. Luna is awake and she's herself again. Can you breath in through your nose for me? Good, that's it. Now hold for four seconds...breathe out through your mouth...hold again..."

Darcy blindly followed the instructions, fighting the urge to lash out instead. She breathed and held her breath in four second intervals for far too long. Fiona seemed to think she was frightened, and maybe she was. Maybe that was why she was so angry. Why couldn't she be done with constant fear and attacks and the world trying to tear apart everyone she loved?

Eventually Darcy was able to convince herself to open her eyes. The air, to her surprise, was hazy with smoke. 

Darcy was sat in the blazing fireplace. Her fireproofed Auror robes smoked gently. Crackling filled her ears. Through a screen of red and orange, she saw Fiona crouched just outside the fire, Dudley kneeling with something white pressed to his chest, and Luna tucked into the corner of the couch, shivering. But awake.

"Luna!" she yelled. Fiona squawked and scooted rapidly backward as Darcy burst from the fire, shedding sparks and embers.

" _Luna_. Moonbeam, are you okay?" Luna smiled at her, hands bandaged and eyes watering.

"No, I don't think so. That was quite upsetting." Her voice broke slightly on the last word, Darcy's heart with it. Without thinking, she opened her arms wide and Luna threw herself forward, equally thoughtless. Darcy experienced a moment of panic, because Pureblood or not Luna would get burned, and she'd already been hurt enough--

The fire retreated inwards, settling in her core. Her body shifted, stretched, ached for a moment. The embers clinging to her skin winked out. And Luna tumbled into pale, perfectly human arms.

Darcy didn't spare any time wondering how that was possible. She just clutched Luna close, pouring all of the love and comfort and calm she could towards her friend in need. 

It was a long, long time before Darcy could bear to let go. But Luna had a father waiting for her at home, and a loving boyfriend, either of which could give her more comfort than Darcy would ever manage. Not when she was sure it was all her fault in the first place. So she helped Luna up and Flooed directly to her home in Ottery St Catchpole. 

The furious look Xenophilius Love good shot her was almost as painful as the bruises around her throat. 

"Darcy..." Fiona said once she got back, brown skin a few shades too pale. "What was that?"

Darcy slumped to the floor, scowling at her own hands with discomfort. It had hardly been over a day and already her old, normal skin seemed strange and unfamiliar.

"Possession," she said at last. "The Werewolf Killer. They...someone is possessing other people to do the dirty work. I think it's my fault."

"Darcy, no," Dudley said. "It is not your fault. Whatever you think--no."

"Yes it is," she snapped. "I'm the face of the Werewolf Rights movement. I--me and--and if I hadn't _cared_ so much, maybe--"

"No. Darce, you can't blame yourself for the actions of psychopaths and murderers. It's their fault for choosing to do evil!"

"Right," Darcy said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Then she noticed the angry red, handprint-shaped burn on his collarbone and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. _She_ did that. When she pushed him.

"I did that."

"Don't feel guilty! It wasn't--"

Darcy closed her eyes and apparated. 

With a pop and a twist, she stood on a familiar ridge overlooking a familiar forest. The Forest of Dean to be precise. They'd spent hours sitting there brainstorming on the Horcrux hunt; maybe the atmosphere would help her think. 

Darcy sat down, noting that her hands were still human. She took several deep breaths and tried to control her thoughts.

_Possession. The Werewolf Killer has possesed two people I've been close to now. It can't be a coincidence. So why...?_

Darcy sat there for hours, casting more and more warming charms as the night dragged on. Eventually the sun started to crest the horizon. A stick cracked somewhere, startling her to het feet, and Darcy gave it up as a bad job. She was tired, stressed, and freezing cold. If there was ever a time she wouldn't be able to think, this was it. 

Listlessly, she roved one last time over her pitiful mental list, struggling to remember even that.

_They probably want revenge. Either on me or because of a werewolf who hurt them._

_I'm pretty sure it's a woman. That sounded like a woman talking, earlier._

_They don't seem to be able to use magic while they're possessing people._

_Only possesed magicals so far, despite that. Definitely a Pureblood bigot._

_Preternatural travel/sensing ability? How did they find Luna so fast after Dennis, and how did they know she was coming over?_ Did _they know?_

That was it. Hours of thinking in circles and wracking her brains and struggling for answers, and all she had to show for it were five measly bullet points. She flopped down again. 

"I need a Hermione," she moped aloud. 

"Luckily you've got one," Hermione's voice said from right behind her. Darcy jumped for her wand and might have fallen off the cliff if Ron hadn't snagged the collar of her robes.

"Honestly Darcy, didn't you hear us apparate?" Hermione said. 

"Thought it was a stick."

Ron laughed, plopping down on the leaves next to her. Hermione sighed and sat on her other side. Darcy couldn't bring herself to follow. She'd sat for far too long anyway. 

"Well then, what's the matter now?"

"I can't figure out how the Werewolf Killer is possessing people."

An odd pause.

"I see." Hermione smiled with too many teeth. The back of Darcy's neck tingled. She tried to get to her wand but Ron grabbed her legs from behind, toppling her over. She elbowed him hard in the nose, feeling something snap. Blood gushed across Ron's blank face as they wrestled for her wand. Darcy didn't win. 

Hermione laughed, wild and deranged. 

"Aww, poor wittle baby Potter! I've been trying to find you for so long! Where's the half-breed been hiding, hm? But I suppose it doesn't matter. The bait worked; you couldn't leave any of your little mutt pet-projects to die, now could you?"

Darcy's mind stuttered to a halt.

"You?!" she exclaimed. Bellatrix Lestrange cackled again, and for an instant Darcy could see her, transparent and tattered, superimposed over Hermione's form. 

"Me! Now go on, baby Potter, ask me how I've done it!"

"How did you do it?" Darcy played along, hyperaware of Ron behind her and the wand jabbing into her spine. She needed a strategy. 

"Not telling," Bellatrix sang, and collapsed into giggles. Death, apparently, had only made her more mad.

"Horcruxes?" Darcy asked. Her eyes buldged. Bellatrix lunged forward and grabbed two fistfuls of Darcy's hair.

"How do you know about it?! Filthy half-breed! Answer me!"

Darcy allowed herself a smirk. 'It'; one horcrux, singular. Thank the stars for that.

"Your master was awfully fond of them too. And it clearly didn't help him out much in the end."

Bellatrix slapped her hard across the face, far stronger than Hermione had ever been. She breathed heavily, nostrils flaring and lips white.

"You lie," she breathed. "The Dark Lord will return! He will return to see I have destroyed you, everything you've worked for, and all of your precious little Mudblood friends! He will rule first this world and then others, an Emperor of Galaxies--"

"Pretty sure Asgard will object to that. Loudly, with like, flying Thunder Gods and _Loki_."

Bellatrix hit her again.

"Loki will support my Master! They will form the greatest alliance ever seen and conquer Asgard and the rest of the Nine--"

"That's nice," Darcy interrupted for a second time. "But when are you going to get to the point? I assume you have one."

Bellatrix giggled, anger gone in an instant.

"Oh half-breed, don't you worry. I have several." And then she pulled out a small arsenal of knives that Darcy knew from personal experience she was very, very good with. 

"Great," Darcy said weakly, "a pun." 

Internally, she cast every spare bit of effort into drawing up that feeling of heat that triggered her transformation, but for once it was strangely slippery. Ron and Hermione might be burned if she changed, but they'd never forgive themselves if they killed her, even unwillingly. 

Bellatrix slowly, almost lovingly, drew the point of a knife across her collarbone and then up her neck. She traced her eyes as Darcy fought for her skin to morph, for heat to spark in the air around her. Nothing. 

"Those eyes...I have to wonder, baby Potter. Did you get them from Mummy Mudblood after all? The Potters don't have an inheritance. Are you a bastard brat?"

"Don't you dare talk about my parents like that!" Darcy snapped, and at last, at _last_ fire erupted into her blood, boiling away any traces of human skin. Ron let go of her with a yelp. She tackled Bellatrix to the ground, knives flying off in every direction.

"Leave Hermione!" she said, her hands catching fire as she knelt, pinning Bellatrix. She only cackled, and when a debilitating wave of freezing air hit, Darcy understood why. She let go, rolling automatically to get away _get away--_

She rolled right over the side of the cliff. Darcy screamed, scrabbling for something to hold onto. Her claws snagged on a treeroot sprouting from a ledge a few meters down. Darcy hung there, wandless and vulnerable and completely exposed.

"Rosier you idiot!" Bellatrix yelled. She heard a hiss of pain. Darcy struggled to pull herself up the roots to the tree itself. Just like hanging off your broom in Quidditch. Except with Quidditch she had people ready to catch her if she failed and Darcy hadn't practiced in months.

"Look over the side! Find her, find her!" Darcy made a reckless lunge, yanked her body up, and tucked herself quietly into the tangle of branches. 

"Lumos." Light shone around her. Darcy ducked her head low and prayed her fiery skin was hidden under her cloak. Several moments passed and Bellatrix cursed.

"Nothing. Nothing!" The swish of a blade, a choked gurgle, and an echoing thud.

"Ulrich, _no!_ No, you can't!"

"You stay where you are, Rookwood! Or you'll go the same way as your little boyfriend!"

"CRUCIO!"

Bellatrix howled, but then it morphed into Hermione's too-familiar wail of pain. It took everything in Darcy not to wail as well, to not throw herself up the cliff and rip Rookwood's head off for daring to hurt her friend.

The screams cut off quickly. She heard a brief rustling, a pained moan, and then presumably the crack of Rookwood disapparating. All was silent. So where was Bellatrix?

Darcy teached up to find a handhold and sunk her claws an inch deep into solid rock instead. She didn't even blink. Darcy scrambled the last few meters to find Ron and Hermione both lying unconscious but alive on the forest floor, splattered with blood not their own. 

Darcy grabbed her wand and fired off a Patronus. She wasn't quite sure what she snapped or even who it was sent to, but Ron woke up and all thought flew her mind.

Darcy melted in relief. And froze, as his eyes glazed over with cruelty. Then a wand swished over her shoulder, a spell was snapped in something not-Latin, and Ron glowed with violet light and fell.

She spun back to face Hermione. 

"You're okay!"

Hermione smiled painfully, eyes hard.

"Yeah, Darcy. As okay as any of us are."

Darcy didn't really know what to say to that uncomfortable truth, so she asked about the spell instead as Ron picked himself up.

"Exorcism hex," she said. "I read up on all kinds after Ginny. Most of them take ages to set up, but this is the fastest, if not most reliable method."

"Teach us?"

"Of course. The incantation is _xekínise_. Wand motion like a whip. It, erm. It's technically classed as a dark spell because it requires the caster to feel sufficient loathing for the subject, but considering..."

"It's alright Mione. Desperate times and all that."

"The loathing bit won't be a problem either," Darcy said. "But what happened? How did she get you two?"

"Rookwood and Rosier. They got the jump on us, imperiused Ron, and...and Lestreange possessed me. They made Ron tell her where you would most likely be, and eventually they found you."

Hermione's cheeks glimmered with tear tracks, silvery on her browned skin in the moonlight. She scrubbed them away roughly.

"It's wasn't your fault," Darcy said, but Hermione always had been the most sensible of them.

"I know. Logically, that is. I just...thought all this was over. The fighting and blood and--"

Ron wrapped her in a hug. Darcy just stood there, claws digging into the flesh of her palms. She had made a promise to herself before, that when she caught whoever hurt her family she would make Bellatrix look tame.

That promise went for double now.


	6. clash

"But how do you keep a spirit from possessing you in the first place?" Neville asked. Luna was sat with her legs thrown across his lap, still too quiet and shivering occasionally. She seemed to have taken to possession the worst out of them all.

"Rowan," Hermione said promptly. "And red berries. It won't always work fully against a really powerful spirit like Voldemort or Lestrange, but it'll slow them enough to give you a fighting chance."

"Let's get some then, and spread the news," Ron said. "That psycho is probably still out there hurting people, and they can't do a thing about it. Possession is so rare...I doubt many people know how to fight it."

"I agree. I plan on talking to Kingsley first thing tomorrow. I just. Need a few hours."

"I can do it, Mione," Ron said, taking her hand. "You're recovering. Don't push yourself."

"I...well, I suppose so. I'll write up a statement you can take him."

"Of course. Whatever makes you feel better."

"Alright, back to the subject at hand," Darcy interrupted, glancing around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Most of the DA looked back at her solidly, plus a few Slytherin additions that fought with them in the Battle of Hogwarts. 

"Nobody go anywhere alone. Learn the exorcism spells Hermione taught us, and get Rowan and red berries as soon as possible. Tell your friends and family what's happening and get them prepared too. You lot are at increased risk, being associated with me, so Lestrange is much more likely to target you. I'm sorry--"

A chorus of "I'm not"s and "don't be"s echoed back at her, along with Blaise Zabini's insolent "I forgive you". That, at least, made her laugh. She smiled at them, the fire in her heart glowing. By Merlin she loved these people. But the joy faded quickly as Lisa Turpin brought up the question of what their game plan was.

Darcy exchanged a quick look with Ron and Hermione.

"Well, it's not going to be anything like we've gone in the past. The Aurors are on our side now, for one thing. For another...this time, I'm asking you all to stay out of the action as much as possible."

She held up her hand to cut off the wave of protests and disagreements. 

"I know, I know. I wouldn't tell you to do nothing, but please, don't seek out Bellatrix. It's not just for your own sake either. The more people around, the more bodies available for possession. Fighting her needs to involve as few people as possible.

"However, there are some things you can do. Spread awareness, like I said, and help people fortify their homes with that anti-possession ward. And for my researchers...I need you to look into Lestrange's personal history. We're searching for some sort of personal item or keepsake. Its probably kept in her Gringotts vault, which I can get you access to, or her family home, which I can also access."

"But do you have authorization to appoint an investigation?" Zabini asked. 

Darcy grinned. 

"Maybe not. It'll happen anyway." Several people laughed, including Zabini.

"Victor of Magic," he teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Where do you want us to start?" Cho said.

"I'd say in Lestrange Manor. I'll write you all up as an official investigative sub-committee for the Werewolf Movement and bully Supreme Mugwump Dodge into signing it tomorrow. For now, get some sleep."

The DA dispersed slowly, chatting as they went. The atmosphere was more tense than normal, to be sure, but nothing like the horrible days of her sixth and seventh years. Was she the only one who felt like she'd been thrown back into the past? 

As the DA left, Ron gave Darcy a firm hug. 

"You go get some sleep too," he ordered. "And...send your cousin a message, maybe. He's been blowing up Lavender and Parvati's telephone all night."

She winced.

"Right. I...forgot about that."

"What happened?"

"I burned him," Darcy said, guilt curling in her stomach. To her shock, Ron and Hermione laughed.

"Darce, I don't think that's the reason he's calling."

"Oh. Right. Yes, that makes sense."

They stared at her expectantly. She blinked back, wondering what they wanted from her.

"You should contact him," Hermione said dryly. "To keep him from worrying that you're dead or worse."

"Why would he think that?" she asked. Because they'd only seen what happened to Luna and her, knew nothing about Creevey or Lestrange or any of it. So why would Dudley and Fiona think she was dead?

"Because that's what normal paranoid people do when their hurt little sibling vanishes after being attacked by a good friend out of her own control," Ron explained patiently.

"I-- _siblings_ , Ron--"

"Don't even try and deny it. He's been your brother since practically forth year! Don't tell me you never noticed?"

"Big brothers aren't supposed to beat up their little sisters," she snarled and immediately regretted it. Both her friends shot to attention.

"Does he still hit you!?" 

"No! No, never! He feels so bad about it, too--in fact, I'm the one who just hurt him!"

They relaxed marginally. 

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You're just so close, sometimes I forget that Dursley prat had him corrupted for a while. I'm sorry, Darce."

"It's fine, Ron," she said, rubbing her eyes. "It's just hard to forget, you know? Even though I love him and I know he didn't know any better." 

He hugged her silently, and Hermione added her own arms to the hug a split second later. Darcy tried not to melt into it, but she was a lost cause. The bathtub nap felt like a lifetime ago, and she was so tired...

She didn't even notice drifting off.

...

Darcy held in a groan as she finished reading Cho's report. Lestrange Manor and Bellatrix's childhood home were both completely clean. Well, not _clean_ clean, but Horcrux-free at least. It was frustrating, but on the bright side this time she could actually tell people the basics of what they were looking for, without fearing it would get back to Voldemort and they'd all be murdered gruesomely.

It had been almost a week since Bellatrix last attacked Darcy, and nothing had happened since. She was probably laying low, gathering strength. Voldie had needed years to build enough strength to possess people, after all. Though he had seven chunks taken out of his soul, and Lestrange only had one. 

"Darcy? You okay?"

Fiona's voice brought her back to the present. She sounded concerned, and Darcy realized she'd actually glared so hard the letter caught fire.

"Whoops. Sorry Fifi. Yeah, I'm fine, just irritated."

"They didn't find anything?"

"Not even a trace."

Fiona sat next to her, closer now that Darcy had sort of gotten her heat flares under control. It was shocking how close a random muggle woman had squirmed her way into Darcy's heart and friend group. Darcy didn't even feel suspicious of her, which...kinda made her suspicious anyway. But overall, she couldn't help but trust Fiona.

Besides, she told Dudley everything, and Dudley apparently couldn't resist Fiona's puppy eyes. 

"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

Darcy opened her mouth to say no and paused. 

"Actually....yeah. Would your ma mind sending another illegal taser?"

Fiona broke out into a grin. "Not in the slightest." 

Darcy smiled back. A muggle taser had saved her butt two times running now, and it hadn't been a month! If she'd had one when Bellatrix possessed Hermione, she could have saved herself a lot of trouble. Bellatrix seemed to leave her host after they lost consciousness, most of the time. 

They chatted for a while longer, not about Bellatrix, but the good points of the Wizarding World. She didn't want Fiona to think it was all blood and death and bigotry. 

"You haven't lived until you've played Quidditch at night, with everybody's wands winking in the stands like stars. It's amazing. Even the teachers turn a blind eye. I swear I saw Flickwick literally turn and walk the other direction once. He was actually whistling."

Fiona laughed.

"It's good to know that magic teenagers have their parties and rebellions too. You should have seen the things people got up to in my old Secondary School." 

"Yeah, I bet," Darcy snorted, thinking of some of the things she knew Dudley had done. 

Then another burst of fire, which had been getting more and more common since her confrontation, threatened to wash over her. Darcy struggled to keep the heat focused inward, but Fiona was already fanning herself and leaning away. 

"I should go," she said, gnawing her lip. "See you around, Fifi."

"See you, Darce. I'll call ma about the taser tonight!"

Darcy shot her a quick grin before she apparated, thinking to visit family that wasn't quite so delicate before she got back to work. The entrance to Lav's flat, she noted with approval, was artfully strung with rowan and crimson berries.

"Aunt Darcy is here!" Violet squealed before she even got to the stairs. She swung the door open and tackled her with a hug. Darcy swung her newest godbaby around, utterly delighted that the little girl had warmed up to her at last. It was astounding how little she was affected after almost dying.

"Hi flower! Are you taking good care of mummy and maan?" 

"Yup!" Violet giggled. "The best!"

"Hey, Darcy."

"Welcome back darling! Any news?" Lavender ushered her inside, still holding Violet.

"Well, it's not in the Black or Lestrange properties. I'm thinking Gringotts is our best bet, but Cho says the goblins are being difficult, and I really don't want to have to bribe them."

"What are you looking for?" Violet asked curiously. Darcy exchanged a look with her parents, and Parvati took over the explanation. 

"The bad spirit who wants to hurt people has an item she's enchanted to keep her from moving on to the next world. We need to find it so she can't hurt anyone else, but she's hid it very well."

"Oh," Violet said, solemn-eyed.

Then: "Have you checked her grave?"

Darcy froze. No, they hadn't. Would Bellatrix have been carrying her horcrux when she was killed? Knowing her arrogance and recklessness...maybe. Just maybe. 

"Violet, you're a genius." Darcy kissed her goddaughter's head and handed her back to Lavender. "I have to go tell the others. Bye!"

She apparated straight to the Granger house, where Hermione sat outside with her father, reading, and Ron and the other Dr Granger chatted amiably nearby. Rowan and berries lined every window.

"Oi! Idea here!" she called, and they quickly extracted themselves.

"Her grave," Darcy said breathlessly. "What are the chances Lestrange had it with her at the Battle?"

"High," Ron said immediately, who had always been good at predicting people. "I can't believe we didn't think of it before."

"Then let's go," she said, grabbing their hands and preparing to apparate. Hermione pulled away.

"Now?" she exclaimed. "Without a plan or back-up or anything?"

"I'll send out a DA alert through the galleons and Patronus Kingsley."

"But are you even sure we're the ones who should be going?" Darcy and Ron both stopped, not even having thought of that. "I mean, back when the Ministry was incompetent at best and corrupt at worse, we didn't really have a choice. But now, shouldn't we let the Aurors deal with her? Isn't that their job?"

"I...guess so," Darcy said, measuring each syllable. "I'm just so used to it being us that deals with everything. But it's me she's going after, so isn't it my responsibility?"

But both her friends were shaking their heads. "No, Darce. Blimey, Hermione's right. I didn't even think twice about it, but mate. This isn't on you two."

"Bellatrix is hurting people to get at me," she argued, feeling lost and out of her depths. "So anyone she hurts if I don't stop her, then isn't that my fault?"

"No, because it isn't your job!" Hermione looked upset. What had she done now? "If a serial killer was obsessed with a muggle woman, and kept killing everyone who looked at her funny, does that mean it's her fault? Does that mean it's her responsibility to take down a murderer?"

"Of course not," Darcy snapped. "And I know the comparison you're trying to draw, but this is completely different?"

"Oh really? How then?"

"Bellatrix isn't obsessed with me like that, for one," she said sarcastically. 

"It isn't your fault," Ron said, grabbing her hand. "Bellatrix Lestrange is sick, twisted, insane and evil. She's made her own choices. It's not on you to clean up her mess, just like it never should have been on you to take down Voldemort."

Why did she feel so numb?

"But the Prophecy-"

"Was for the Dark Lord only," he said, giving her a little shake and peering deeply into her eyes. "Even then...it never should have been you. But I think you need to sit this one out, mate. I'll tell the other Aurors everything you've figured out, and we can deal with it."

"But what if you get hurt?"

"It's not on you to make sure he doesn't," Hermione said very gently, as if breaking terrible news to someone very fragile. "I know you have your saving people thing, but there are other ways to help. You're an activist, not an Auror. You do you job, they'll do their's."

"Ron is my friend!" Darcy shouted. "I'm not going to let him face a psychotic dark witch alone!"

Hermione's parents looked up from the porch swing and Darcy forced her voice--and fire--under control.

"I'm not going to go alone," Ron said. "I'll have Seamus and Dennis and a dozen other brilliant Aurors. Please Darcy. I don't want you to come."

She recoiled, tears blurring her eyes, but Ron engulfed her in a tight hug.

"You're always the one to protect everybody. Can't you let us protect you, for once? Please."

And slowly, stiffly, Darcy nodded it went against the grain of her very being, seemed to violate every standard she set for herself. But Ron had begged. And she was even less capable of denying that than she was at ignoring her instincts.

"Thank you," he breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She went on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek in turn. Fire rushed into her lips and when she pulled away, the kiss-mark glowed.

Ron touched it in surprise, and gave her a warm smile. He then let go, pecked Hermione on the lips, and was gone.

Darcy stood there staring at the spot where he stood a moment ago, as hollow as if someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that made her Elizabeth Darcy Potter. Quietly, her inheritance faded into flimsy pale skin and cool bones. Hermione took her hand and led her back towards the house. Darcy followed blindly. 

_Don't die, Ronald Weasley. Don't you dare._

...

Darcy was not accustomed to waiting. Not accustomed to sitting quietly while others risked their lives. It ached somewhere deep inside, but even more it was a relief. And that made her feel guiltier than anything. For so long all Darcy wanted was to be normal, but somehow she had never reconciled that with the fact that normal people left the fighting for the law enforcement. 

"I'm going after them," Darcy said. It had been an hour! It didn't take an hour to rob a grave, not unless there was trouble! Three pairs of hands wrapped around her arms. 

"No, Cece, you aren't," Fiona said firmly. "You're staying right here."

"I just want to check on Ron, that's all," she tried. "I won't even get close."

"No."

"I'm not a child! You can't just keep me here against my will!"

The glint in Hermione's eyes said, yes, she very well could, but Dudley tried the softer and more effective approach. 

"Maybe not. But I'm not going to let you go alone, and then you'll be bringing a muggle into a wizard's fight."

Darcy snarled, but even to her own ears it sounded defeated. Hopeless. Dudley wrapped his arms around her, tugging Darcy to his chest. She planted her chin on his shoulder reluctantly. Hermione took her hand and Fiona rubbed her back. 

Despite herself, Darcy began to relax. Cunning of them, to use her craving for touch against her like that. Nevertheless it made the waiting easier, as she shifted to squash her face into her cousin's sternum. Hermione and Fiona lightly debated muggle science theories and Darcy found herself drawn into it. They were deep in discussion about the existence of other worlds, and Darcy had been fascinated by such things since she first learned about Loki. 

And then, just as she was starting to feel okay, a Patronus streaked through the wall and all four of them bolted to their feet. It was Kingsley's. Darcy sunk her nails into her palms. 

"Potter," the Minister's voice said, stiff and full of tension. "Bellatrix Lestrange has taken a child hostage. She demands you come to her alone at the Final Battle Cemetery or Violet Brown will die."

The windows of Dudley's flat shattered and the light bulbs imploded, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Darcy was moving before the message even got to Violet's name. She threw herself away from her friends' grasping hands, plunged her hand in her boot for her wand, and apparated. 

_I'm going to kill her_.

It was a trap, of course it was. Even beyond the obvious, there was probably something she wasn't expecting. She didn't care, didn't have a choice. Bellatrix knew that. 

Darcy popped into existence some several hundred meters from the cemetery in a crouch. She cast several spells in quick succession: silencing, shielding, and scent-erasing (they had _learned_ from that time with the perfume) and pulled her Invisibility Cloak from her bag. 

She crept down the hill, casting silent detection spells as she went. Bellatrix, whether she could use magic or not, was not to be underestimated. She likely had other Death Eaters with her too. 

And sure enough, Darcy found several proximity wards and a cauterwailing charm lining the perimeter of the cemetery. She chewed her lip. How to get in...?

The weakness of security wards was that they could only detect one intrusion at a time. If, say, some other creature or person were to cross the boundary line a split second before her, Darcy should remain undetected.  
  
A smirk tugged at her mouth.

Well, was she a witch or what? Darcy crouched and waved her wand over a nearby stone. It grew and morphed into a rough replica of herself. Very rough. She frowned.

"Oh, let me try," a very familiar voice whispered. Darcy turned and found herself looking at a Hermione-shaped blur squatting beside her. The crude doppelganger smoothed into her mirror image. It began walking down along the ward line.

Harry held a portion of the Invisibility Cloak open and Hermione ducked underneath. She reversed her disillusionment charm so they could see each other.

"It won't take long for them to discover the trick, but we don't need long. On the count of three?" Hermione said.

"One," Darcy said. 

"Two."

"Three." The doppelganger stepped into the cemetery several meters away. Darcy and Hermione darted across. Figures shimmered into view, and Darcy watched dispassionately as the clone fell with a knife to the throat.

"No! She tricked us!" Bellatrix growled in Ron's voice. "You, Avery, lead a patrol of the area! Potter is inside."

"But how-"

"I SAID GO!" 

Darcy took Hermione's shoulder. She was shuddering in fury, gaze locked on Ron's possessed body. But Harry, as worried as she was for Ron, only had eyes for the small, unconscious form tied to a gravestone.

Violet.

Her goddaughter was surrounded by Death Eaters, three of them. Other than Bellatrix, that left five including Avery to patrol the cemetery. Rookwood and Rosier were nowhere to be seen. That was almost every Death Eater left loose all in the same place.

Darcy let Hermione take the lead, creeping around the searching wizards with ease. These were Inner Circle cronies, the warriors and planners, not the Snatchers out hunting fugitives. The two of them and Ron had been sneaking past adult wizards since they were eleven, and had a cloak immune to their detection charms. It wasn't even a competition.

Unfortunately, for all that they weren't getting caught, Darcy didn't see any openings either. All the Aurors were gone, expect for Ron of course. She had thought they'd still be here, just knocked out or tied up ( _please not dead_ ) so that she could revive them, rescue Violet, and unleash fiery retribution on Bellatrix and her goons.

Well, she'd always been good at improv. 

_I'm going to distract Lestrange. You take the Cloak and get Violet out on my signal._

Hermione signed _no_ furiously, but Darcy was already slipping out from under the Cloak, careful not to reveal Hermione as she did.

"Potter!" Bellatrix crowed. Ron's face twisted in malevolent glee. "I knew you would come, itty bitty baby hero!"

"Let Violet go," Darcy ordered. The Death Eaters closed in around her. 

"Aw, is that the wee mutt's name? You know...I rather think I won't."

"If you really want me, you will," she said. Bellatrix and the others laughed.

"I've already got you, half-breed," she sneered. Darcy grinned her most infuriating grin, the one that said 'I know something you don't'. 

"That's what you think. This," she reached into her pocket and pulled out her MP3 player, "says otherwise."

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Bellatrix's tone dripped with derision. 

"The Department of Mysteries' new Portkey prototype," Darcy said nonchalantly. "I stole it. This little thing can punch through even the most powerful wards. If you don't let my goddaughter go, I'm gone."

"You're lying," one Death Eater spat. "The Ministry doesn't have anything that powerful."

Darcy smiled sweetly.

"Oh, and you've been kept so appraised of what the Ministry is doing, have you Selwyn? I'll say it one more time. Give me. My goddaughter."

"And what keeps you from activating that so-called Portkey after I set your mutt free?" Bellatrix asked, face alive with twisted cunning. 

"I'll give it to you," Darcy said easily. "Really Bella. What could you possibly loose? You have no need for keeping a baby werewolf, and her release will get you Elizabeth Potter. Do try and use your head."

Unexpectedly, Bellatrix giggled. "Oh half-breed. I will have so much fun breaking you. Step away from the mutt!"

The guards did. Darcy ruthlessly suppressed a triumphant grin. She could see the way the grass scrunched under Hermione's feet as she moved towards Violet.

"Untie her."

"Do it," Bellatrix affirmed, twirling a knife in Ron's hands.

A Death Eater twitched her wand, and Violet slumped to the earth--only to vanish as Hermione caught the child, pulling her under the Cloak. 

"No!" Bellatrix screeched. Darcy's wand whipped forward, and she blasted the ground in a massive explosion of dirt, covering Hermione's escape.

"Accio Portkey!" Bellatrix thundered. Nothing happened.

"Poor Bella," Darcy taunted as she rolled out of the way of a blood boiling curse. "Did you forget you're no better than a Squib now?"

Darcy took out one Death Eater--Merlin, was that Theo Nott?-- and dodged two knives and another round of curses. Selwyn roared and a gravestone became a gargoyle. 

Darcy swore and blasted it to pieces, but a disarming spell caught her from behind. She flew through the air, landing hard on her side. Darcy hadn't even seen who her wand went to.

"Incarcerous," Ron's voice said, and this time the spell worked. Bellatrix cackled.

"Finally. Just you and me, baby Potter."

"Wow, really? Then what do you call these eight other people? Furniture?"

Bellatrix very calmly crouched down and drove a knife through Darcy's wand arm. Behind gritted teeth, Darcy screamed. Bellatrix twisted the knife, and her vision went white for a moment. 

When Darcy came back to herself, Bellatrix was laughing in delight. It sounded so wrong coming from Ron's mouth.

"Not so tough now, are you?" Bellatrix leaned down so she was inches away from Darcy's face.

"Screw you," Darcy panted; not her greatest comeback ever, but she had a knife sticking out of her arm. She could be excused.

"I've been waiting for so long," Bellatrix said dreamily. "So long to be here with you."

"I'm flattered, but you're really not my type."

"I'm going to make you wish you were never born, baby Potter," she continued, digging another knife into her cheek. "You're going to scream and scream, and eventually, it will stop. But I won't kill you for a good long time, that I can promise yo--"

"DEPULSO!" Hermione shrieked. Bellatrix hurtled back, colliding with a gravestone. It broke under the force and Ron was left slumped there, blood trickling from his head.

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix snarled from a new body. Dennis Creevey shoved Hermione out of the way.

"You're going to pay for what you made me do," he hissed. Hermione flung the Cloak at Darcy and whipped around to curse the eyeballs out of the witch sneaking up on her.

Darcy surged to her feet, ignoring the agony, and summoned her wand with her left hand. She had a horcrux to find. Invisible and in relative safety, Darcy sprinted across the graveyard towards the Death Eater section of the cemetery. The missing Aurors charged in around her.

She found Bellatrix's grave without a problem. Neville had gone there to pee on it just after the war, and about half the DA had tagged along to see the spectacle.

"Diffindo, diffindo, diffindo. Diffindo." Darcy sliced deep into the dirt and levitated the huge slab of earth out of the grave. Bellatrix's coffin cracked open easily. 

The corpse was little more than a skeleton draped in tattered flesh. And on its chest rested a beautiful onyx pendant, utterly pristine despite the filth around it. Darcy jumped into the grave and grabbed it.

She clambered out of the hole, lay the pendant down on the grass, and whispered:

"Fiendfyre."

Flames burst from her wand, a vicious crimson wraith that vaporized the necklace instantly, gouging hungry claws deep into the ground. It turned to Darcy and despite the heat--blistering, even for her--her blood ran cold.

" _Childe of fyre and ruin_ ," the fire groaned in a voice like cracking logs and popping sparks. " _Thou...thou art ours to consume."_

Darcy had faced down Voldemort at eleven years old. She killed a Basilisk with a sword, got in a fistfight with a mass murderer, out-flew a nesting dragon, started a rebellion and went on the run. She was tortured. She had killed people, and seen people killed. 

And never had Darcy been as frightened as when the fiendfyre drifted towards her.

"No," she said, taking a step back. "No, stop!"

" _Do not fight it, childe of ours_."

Darcy ignored the words and clutched her wand. She bent all of her will towards banishing the flames. The fiendfyre flickered and did not disappear. 

" _Good_ ," it whispered. " _Thou art strong. Show us your strength!"_

 _"Get away from me!"_ Darcy bellowed. The fire recoiled.

" _The childe speaketh the olde tongue!_ "

Darcy took advantage of its shock to try again. She shoved all of her magic into the counterspell, until her veins felt ready to burst.

" _Thou darest?! Thou darest seek to imprison thy ancestors?!"_

"Yeah I dareth! Now shut up," Darcy seethed, "and get out!"

Darcy felt the blood vessels burst in her eyes. Her wounds seared. The fiendfyre howled and struck; Darcy screamed as a burning tendril of flame lashed across her wrist. And then it was over.

She sat down hard, blinking at the blackened pit where the fiendfyre used to be. Darcy shivered. Suddenly the day was once again freezing cold, despite the layers of hearing charms.

"Darcy!" 

Darcy grinned up at Ron.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah mate," he said, kneeling in front of her. "It worked, you ruddy hero. She's dead, for good this time, and we got every Death Eater here."

"Ha! Darcy eight, Forces of Darkness zero."

Ron laughed.

"Alright, Victor of Magic. Let's go home."


	7. cold

Home. Home sounded nice. It was freezing in the cemetery. 

Ron held out a hand and Darcy grabbed it. He yelped and let go instantly, swearing.

"Merlin Darce, you're burning up!"

"Not more inheritance stuff," she whined. "I wanna go hooome!"

"Sorry mate," Ron sighed. "But we better get you to the hospital. It's just getting worse."

Reluctantly Darcy nodded. She bumbled her way to her feet, swaying and stumbling. Ron made no less than three aborted movements to help her, so she really must have looked a mess. 

"Darcy, Ron!" Hermione appeared in a flurry of curls, and Ron caught her before she could complete her tackle hug. 

"Sorry Mione. She's hotter than dragon fire right now."

Darcy, despite her exhaustion, felt her lips twitch up.

"What, like I wasn't always?"

"Oh ha ha." Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron snickered. "Just go to St Mungos already. This really can't be normal."

"Yes ma'am." Darcy saluted cheekily and apparated.

She regreted it instantly. Stepping between the cracks in space, slipping into the Nothingness and coming out the other side, it was always cold. But this time it was like ice forming inside her bones. Darcy was desperately lucky that apparition only took a moment, because much longer and she was sure she would be dead.

Darcy reappeared in what was hopefully the reception room and collapsed. Her right foot was gone. It was still impossibly cold.

"Merlin's beard!"

"Is that Elizabeth Potter?!"

"Out of the way!"

Darcy groaned. The face of Astoria Greengrass appeared above her, tight with controlled worry and determination.

"Milady. We need you to stay awake, alright? Talk to me."

"Oh...okay." Her mouth felt gummy, her tongue thick, but she spoke anyway. "Did you do something new with your hair?"

"Yes, actually," Astoria replied calmly as she levitated Darcy onto another floating stretcher. "Daphne cut it for me. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

"I beat the--the Bella witch," Darcy said. "With fire. Lotsa fire. It, er, it talked to me. It was creepy."

"The fire spoke with you?" 

Healer Whelan appeared. His face went white. "Keep her talking," he ordered. "Wilson, dispatch someone to retrieve the splinched extremity."

"Lady Darcy? The fire?"

"Hm? Oh yeah...like I said. Creepy."

"And what did it say?"

"Stuff," Darcy said. She tried to wave a hand but it was heavy and numb. "Called me a child, so it obviously wasn't a very smart fire. I'm almost twenty, you know."

"Of course. Do you know when your birthday is?"

"Humph. As if I could forget. 'Born as the seventh month dies' and all that rot..."

Wow, the room was spinning. Was it supposed to do that? Probably. It was magic, right? Magic could make things spin. Around and around and around.

"Milady!"

Darcy snapped back to the conversation.

"Oh, sorry. We were talking. Didn't mean to zone out on you...that was rude."

"It's quite alright ma'am. Just keep awake. Do you have a favorite color?"

Healer Whelan levitated her onto an operating table. The runes flared orange and he swore colorfully. 

"No swearing," she admonished. "If I can't, you can't. Erm, where were we?"

"You favorite color."

"Ah, yes." Darcy nodded wisely. "I'm supposed to say red, cuz, cuz I'm a Gryffindor and all. But I also really like purple. It's pretty."

"We have the leg! Weasley brought it in!"

Darcy tried to look, but Astoria pushed her down gently. "Don't, milady. Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Yes I do--wait, why aren't you burned?" Darcy protested. "I'm fire!"

"Not right now you aren't. Your body temperature is almost at normal wizard levels."

"And that's...bad?"

But Astoria didn't respond. 

"Okay, she's stable. Greengrass, put her out."

And the world faded to black.

...

When Darcy woke, she felt better than she had in years. Her head was clear, her blood sang with energy, and she felt like she could take on a troll bare-handed.

The hospital room was empty, which struck her as rather odd. She'd expected Healers to be hovering like pixies the second she was up.

Darcy rolled out of bed and pulled on the hospital slippers waiting for her. She stretched luxuriously, and blinked when she saw that her limbs glowed with heat, red and amber; white around her largest veins. The only dark spot was a burgundy stripe where the fiendfyre got her.

Darcy stood up, testing the integrity of her previously splinched leg. It felt fine, so she made her way to the door. Every movement was so smooth and easy that it felt like she were in a dream. Then she stepped outside.

 _Cold!_ She shrieked and stumbled backwards. Warm air washed over her and Darcy stared at the doorway, leading to an innocently empty corridor. Slowly, she reached a hand past the threshold.

Freezing air bit at her fingers. Darcy yanked her hand back, shivering as she rubbed her tingly skin. It wasn't--it wasn't unbearable, per se. But it felt like a Scotland winter night. She could endure long enough to scurry down to Hagrid's and back in this kind of cold, but much longer and she'd freeze.

Darcy slowly backed up and sat on her bed. She held a hand out in front of her, testing the temperature. At first it felt like any comfortably warm summer day; not too cold and not too hot. But as she focused...

"I am sitting in an oven," Darcy said flatly. "Great. Now I can't even stand normal summer temperatures! What next?"

"Erm, Lady Potter?"

Darcy looked up. "Oh! Healer Whelan!"

He smiled and came into the room. Immediately he took off his over robes and loosened his tie. Sweat already begun to bead on his forehead as he cast a cooling charm on himself. 

"I see you've discovered your...situation," he said.

"Yeah, you could say that," she snorted. "Triple the warming charms?" 

Healer Whelan winced, rubbing his hands together. "Well... if you think it best--"

He cut himself off, took a deep breath, and said:

"No, Lady Potter. I am afraid that will no longer be sufficient."

Darcy was perhaps unduly shocked by that, but really, she had never heard the man actually flat-out disagree with her about anything before.

"Alright then, what? Winter clothes in July? A sauna for a bedroom?" she joked.

"The latter, yes. But as for the former, I am afraid you misunderstand." He paused and kicked his lips. "I must be blunt with you...my Lady, I am afraid no matter the measures taken, to remain in this environment is no longer viable."

"That's ridiculous," Darcy said calmly. "I've been perfectly fine so far. I fought Death Eaters for Merlin's sake! There's really nothing wrong with me. I'm just a little sensitive to the cold, that's all."

Healer Whelan cringed like she'd screamed at him and upended the bed.

"I--that is, no, milady. Respectfully, you have not fine. Your recent troubles with exhaustion and control, culminating in irresponsiveness, are due to the lack of sufficient heat."

"Okay, so why won't warming charms work then?"

"It's hardly so simple a matter, milady. When in your inherited form, your blood requires not insignificant heat to flow properly. The power of your magical core kept your temperature adequately high for a time, but you have exhausted it."

"But I feel okay now," she protested. "Brilliant, actually."

Healer Whelan smiled gently. 

"I imagine, yes. This is likely the first time you have been properly warm in your life. Also, you've been sleeping for almost three days."

She gaped.

"Three days? It hardly felt like a few hours!"

"I suppose, milady. Your core is far from recovered in any case. I suggest--that is, the reccomendation--" He stopped and pinched the bridge of the nose. 

"Oh, Merlin blast it all. My Lady Potter, if you remain in Great Britain it is highly likely you will drain yourself until death. You need to move somewhere warm, very warm, as soon as possible."

Darcy, despite her physical warmth, felt cold again. She sat back down and laced her orange hands together.

"What if I learned to control the transformations?" she tried. The Healer shook his head.

"By my estimation you are many months, if not years, from reaching that goal. The cold climate of England only makes it harder to regulate your inheritance, as your body is near constantly in a state of distress. You will find it nigh impossible to even relax, much less control your very nature."

Darcy swallowed. She nodded once, as she'd seen Malfoy and countless other Purebloods do when they were Done Talking. The Healer hesitated a moment, then gave a full bow and retreated.

"You may send for me at any time by pulling that bell, milady."

Darcy put her head in her hands and tried to sort out her conflicting feelings. There was anger, to be sure. Why did this upheaval have to come now, just when she was beginning to settle into her life?

She was also resigned. Part of her wasn't the slightest bit surprised; she'd spent her whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop, and drop it did. But most shamefully of all...Darcy couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of relief.

She didn't _want_ to leave her friends and family. She didn't want to abandon her cause and her home and everything she'd ever known! And yet, how often had she longed for an escape? To go someplace where nobody knew her, to be another face in the crowd? Too often, that was for sure.

And now the chance was being handed to her on a silver platter. No. Not even that; it was being _required_ of her if Darcy intended to keep her life. This was the moment she'd secretly been hoping for, the perfect excuse to run, abandoning all her burdens and responsibilities and--

She slammed her fist into the wall. 

It crumpled like wet paper, but Darcy wasn't satisfied. She leapt to her feet and kicked the bed clear across the room with a strength she hadn't known she possessed. Both hands gripping her hair by the roots, Darcy began to pace, temperature rising around her. Flame trickled steadily from her nostrils.

"I can't want this," she denied, slashing her wand through the air. A ceramic vase appeared and she blasted it into shards. Then again, and again, until she was a panting mess slumped on the floor. 

Numbly, she reached out and pulled the old fashioned bell cord that would call the Healer. He came so quickly she suspected he'd been hovering outside. He certainly didn't look surprised at the mess she'd made.

"My Lady?"

"Can you send in my friends?" she asked. He nodded slowly.

"All of them, my Lady? The waiting room is quite full at the moment."

"Oh. Right. No, just the Weasleys, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and the Brown-Patils. My cousin Dudley Dursley and his...fiancé, Fiona Lewis. If she's here." 

He bowed again. "Of course, milady."

Darcy took a few moments to compose herself, forcefully keeping her little flame hatch closed. She repaired the bed and wall, vaguely alarmed at how much effort it cost her, and sat crosslegged on the mattress.

A flood of people poured into her room. Darcy startled at the first one through, black mood evaporating.

"Ginny!" she cried, leaping up to accept an enthusiastic tackle hug. "You're back!"

"Of course I am, idiot! You think I'd stay at some silly Quidditch camp when my big sister is coming into an inheritance and the Bella witch has risen from the dead? I ruddy well think not!"

She paused. "Nice skin by the way. You look _hot_."

Darcy laughed. "That was terrible."

"I know, thank you," Ginny said, flipping her long red braid over her shoulder. She sat down and unceremoniously pulled Darcy into her lap. Luna quickly claimed the rest of the bed space for herself and Neville, smiling innocently. The rest of her friends conjured chairs for themselves and the muggles. 

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately, brown eyes wide with worry and impatience. She practically vibrated were she was sat.

Darcy's elation cooled somewhat, in the face reality's ugly head. But Ginny's arms around her waist and chin planted on her shoulder provided a steadying pressure.

"I can't stay in Britain any longer," she blurted instead of breaking it gently like she'd planned. A chorus of gasps and exclamations met her words. She tried to interject, but they were all louder than one of Gryffindor's victory parties.

"Shut it!" Ginny barked, the only one who was close enough to hear her attempts to talk. "The woman's trying to speak!"

They shut it, and Darcy took a deep breath.

"It's the cold," she said. "Something about my blood flow. My magic is trying to sustain the right temperature but it keeps exhausting itself, doing magic all day every day. I have to go someplace warm."

"I'm going with you," Dudley said immediately. Darcy was far too selfish to protest. Besides, she had seen that look in his eyes, right before he decked a Death Eater or cussed out his father or ran away with her to a world he knew nothing about.

"But--but where will you go?" Lavender asked. Parvati took her hand. Ginny was being uncharacteristically silent. 

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "But I've been thinking...I want to live with muggles."

"I'd suggest the Americas," Hermione volunteered surprisingly steadily, for someone whose eyes were that wet. "The United States has a strict secrecy policy, which I know is important to you. And they have mandatory programs introducing modern muggle technology and customs to those who plan to live in the non-magical world."

She sniffled for the first time. "I know you've been meaning to catch up."

Darcy cleared her throat.

"Yeah," she said roughly. "Yeah, that sounds good." 

"When do you 'ave to leave?" Fleur asked, frowning with delicate sadness.

"I dunno. As soon as my core has recovered, probably. The Healer seemed...really insistent."

Ginny squeezed her tighter. "We'll take care of packing," she insisted. "You rest. We'll help you find a place and move in too."

Darcy's vision blurred a little.

"I'm going to miss you guys," she choked out. 

"Don't bury your humdingers before they kick the bucket, Darcy," Luna said. "It isn't as though we can't visit you."

"It won't be the same."

"No," Luna said. "But maybe it shouldn't be. You've been drowning in wrackspurts these last few months. I think a change of scenery will do you good."

"It's okay if you want to go," said Ron, who had always been too perceptive for Darcy's own good.

"I don't want to leave you all," she protested, clutching Ginny's arms.

"Of course you don't," Neville said. "But there isn't anything wrong with wanting to get away from the adoring hordes. I probably would have left already if it was me."

A chorus of muttered agreements followed, and Darcy blinked rapidly.

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he said firmly. A little spark of hope blossomed in her chest.

"Oh. Well then. I guess...yeah. Let's find me a new home!"

They cheered and laughed and Darcy accepted many, many hugs, though Ginny jealously refused to let go of her, citing her prolonged absence as justification. 

Within half an hour Hermione had produced several maps of the States as well as a list of the hottest places there.

"Most of these are big cities, so you'll be able to move there without drawing much attention."

The hottest on the list was Phoenix, Arizona which Darcy liked immediately, both because of the name and because just the thought of living somewhere with an average high of 40°C was delicious. The next one, Las Vegas, was also intriguing, simply because she'd always heard so much about it. But there was a large concentration of wizards there, and Hermione thought the chances of being recognized were high. 

Eventually, after hearing about a dozen cities that all sounded the same, she just threw her hands up and said:

"You know what? I'm filthy rich, right? I'll just get a flat in Phoenix and build a vacation home in this Death Valley." She nodded decisively. Hermione sighed.

"Well, alright. I'll get Zabini to liaise with the Goblins about finances. He isn't publically associated with us, so it should be fine..."

Darcy grinned and Ginny snickered in her ear. It was one of their finer moments, riding a dragon out of Gringotts, and no one would ever convince her otherwise. Even if the feud the Goblin Nation declared made things difficult and she would probably have to move her entire fortune to the dwarf banks.

"Speaking of finances," Darcy said, remembering an old wish of her's. "Er, how would one go about donating ridiculous sums of money to various charities?"

"I'll write up instructions for you. But Darcy, do please be careful. With your money, and how small the Wizarding World is, it would be dreadfully easy for you to destabilize the economy."

Darcy gulped. 

"Um...will do," she said a little weakly, mentally discarding the idea of donating the entire Black fortune to every cause they had ever hated. Hermione shot her a knowing look.

"Anyway, since you're stuck here and can't manage it, Dudley and I will handle purchasing the properties. Er, if that's okay? We'll consult with you and bring pictures of course."

"Go for it," Darcy said. 

Just then, a knock came from the door. Ron got up to let Healer Whelan in. The poor man looked near to fainting at seeing so many 'war heroes' in one place. 

"The Lady Potter needs to rest now," he said tremulously, but Darcy was just impressed that he didn't stutter. 

A wave of general protests followed, though Ginny was the only one Darcy had to elbow in the ribs before she got moving. 

"But I've barely seen you!" Ginny pouted, batting her eyes, but Darcy could see the genuine worry in them. She leaned forward and kissed her cheek, knowing it was probably a bad idea but utterly unable to stop herself.

Sure enough, the point where lips met skin glowed softly and Darcy immediately sat down on the bed, room spinning gently. 

"Alright, that's it! Out, all of you! Come on, move! Her Ladyship needs rest--don't come back tomorrow." He shut the door as Darcy stared. That was the first sign of typical Healer fussiness she'd seen from the man.

"You need to sleep, Lady Potter."

"But you said I was sleeping for days-"

"So I did. But you've gone and exhausted your already stressed core, milady. You need rest, and no more magic for at least a week!"

Darcy shut her mouth with an audible click. There was no use arguing with a Healer. Not even this one, apparently. 

"Fine," she huffed. "Can you bring in a tub of boiling water?"

He brightened. 

"Ah, so you are amphibious after all! Excellent, most excellent. Yes, milady, that can certainly be done."

"Thanks." After he left, Darcy stood to look at what her friends had left. Books, food, parchment and quill, puzzles, thermos of hot tea, comfortable clothes. She smiled gratefully. At least she wouldn't be as bored as she thought. 

A few minutes later she'd changed into a soft tunic for sleeping. Healer Whelan sent a pair of medi-witches with a large floating tub spelled full of steamy, boiling hot water. 

She thanked them and immediately jumped inside. It didn't take her five minutes to fall asleep.


	8. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the writing is a off, this is because writer's block was kicking my butt. Sorry for the wait! Next chapter is coming very soon, I promise.

Three properties. 

A large flat in downtown Phoenix with a hot tub and brilliant view of the city; it was a typical rich city girl flat if Hermione was to be believed. Darcy kinda just wanted it for the hot tub.

Then there was a simple ranch house in the suburbs that Darcy liked the look of better, except she had already experienced upper-middle class suburbia once and that was enough for her.

Lastly came the place she was most seriously considering: a narrow three story castle house. A CASTLE house! With a little courtyard and tiny battlements and she could totally fly a flag with the Potter crest! Darcy spent the formative years of her life in a castle, after all. It would be like having a tiny piece of home with her. That she would live in as a literal home. Score! 

Really, Darcy wanted the castle house _so_ much that the only reason the other two were on the list was because Dudley actually liked suburbia and Fiona, who had officially moved in with Dudley, was a city girl to the core.

So anyway, Darcy was trying to be nice and think of their preferences because Dudley insisted on living in the same place as her in case he was needed. And he just flat out wouldn't let her buy him and Fiona a house for themselves.

"Darcy," Fiona sighed. "Stop agonizing and just buy the castle before some other eccentric rich person does."

"I'm not that eccentric," Darcy mumbled, not even bothering to deny the rich part. She'd had to whole years to get used to the idea of being heir to two significant fortunes. It would have been more because people with no children kept leaving their worldly crap to the oh-so-lauded Victor of Magic, but Darcy had already donated those to Lavender's Werewolf Rights Movement and SPEW.

(Not that it was called that anymore. Ron had proposed the much more palatable HELP--House Elf Liberation and Protection--Society. SPEW was more of an affectionate nickname.)

"Darcy. Stay on task," Hermione reminded her.

"I don't want either of you to be uncomfortable," she said, looking between her cousin and his girlfriend. 

Dudley very calmly reached out and grabbed her hand. He shoved a pen into it and pointed at the papers she needed to sign.

"Sign it."

Well fine then. Excuse her for being considerate.

Darcy signed the papers.

...

Darcy survived the Killing Curse--twice. She withstood Vernon Dursley's awful attempts at parenting. She lived through ruddy Voldemort's murder attempts, like, twelve times. She could do this. 

"I can't do this!" Darcy wailed, flopping down dramatically on the couch. "It's ridiculous! I'll just stay here forever; Dudley and Fifi can go without me."

Hermione didn't even bother to respond, too busy chatting away on her mobile. Ron kept on floating her clothes into her suitcase. Ginny, the absolute traitor, sat down on her stomach.

"Ginny!" she protested, shoving at her. "Get off, lump!" But apparently Ginny had spelled her bottom to stick to Darcy's belly. 

"You said you weren't going anywhere," Ginny said innocently. "And I'm cold!"

She shivered dramatically in her tank top and cutoffs. Darcy rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand. She cancelled the sticking charm and dumped Ginny on the floor.

"All set," Ron announced as the last of her belongings vanished into the depths of her expanded suitcase.

Ugh. UGH. 

"Do I have to?" Darcy whined, but she knew she did even without the chorus of yeses that followed her statement. There literally wasn't any choice to leave, except for where she went. She'd excepted that a while ago. It just felt so final. Darcy wasn't ready to strike out on her own! There was a reason she kept freeloading on her friends instead of staying at Grimmauld Place! 

At least Dudley (and Fiona) would be with her.

So Darcy went. She huffed and pouted and complained, doing her best pre-magic-reveal Dudley impersonation, but she went. And when she boarded the aeroplane, magic tucked firmly under control, Darcy dropped the act and went quiet, watching London disappear steadily into the distance. 

She relaxed back into her seat, shooting Dudley a smile as he laid a warm hand on her shoulder. Fiona nudged her leg and Darcy nudged back. 

It would be fine. Great, even. What's the worst that could happen?

Darcy immediately slipped her hand in her pocket to knock on the wood of her wand. Bad Darcy! No tempting fate!

...

Moving in to her tiny Arizona castle was a hassle and a half, but not for the reasons you'd think. Unpacking was the work of a couple hours with magic, the place was lovely, and the weather divine...though she would look into creating cooling bracelets for Dudley and Fifi. 

No, what was a hassle was the neighbors. They turned up in droves, with cookies and things, which was nice. But they had all sorts of awkward questions about how the house was already set up. And why they didn't see any moving trucks. And how come they were all living together. And a million other things none of them had a cover story for.

So Darcy spent a lot of time bluffing up plausible-sounding lies.

Why was the house was ready so quick? Well, they hired professional movers, of course!

How come the movers weren't seen? Well, that was because of an old English superstition that if your neighbors saw you move in it would bring bad luck. They worked at night.

Three barely-grown kids living together? They were cousins and a cousin's girlfriend being roommates, obviously. The house was a bit expensive, so they all chipped in. Only the last part was a lie.

Finally they were all gone. Darcy shut the big oak double doors behind the last couple and their adorable but painfully spoiled child and groaned. 

"Americans are so nosy," Dudley said.

"You're not wrong," Fiona replied, "but it's more of a 'people are nosy' kind of thing. Americans are just more up front about it."

Dudley grunted wordlessly and went to lie down. Fiona followed, leaving Darcy with time to set up some wards.

...

Three weeks after the move, Darcy was happily frolicking about in a swimming pool with a bunch of other young adults. It was scorching hot enough that she only felt a little chilly in the cool water and everybody else was too-hot but apparently used to it.

"Hey, Darcy! Think fast!" someone--either a Brad or a Brian--yelled, even as they threw a squishy, waterlogged ball at her chest. Darcy caught it easily.

"Ooh, Brandon got owned!" Felicity cried. For a second Brandon's face was priceless. Then it split into a wide grin.

"Wanna play?" he called, gesturing to the ball in her hands. Darcy beamed, confident and a little flirtatious, just like Lavender taught her.

"Oh love, I thought you'd never ask," she purred, just a hint of her inheritance leaking into her voice.

And the game was on.

...

Two days later, Brandon asked her on a date. Darcy was...suspicious? Happy though. But suspicious. She was pretty sure he only wanted her for her boobs, but he was playful and fun and admittedly fit. 

She said yes.

"Awesome," he grinned. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Why is it always seven?" Darcy wondered. "I mean, every book and movie, the date starts at seven. Why?"

Brandon blinked. "Uh, I don't know. Seven thirty is just when the movie starts."

"Ah."

The date itself was...okay. Utterly foriegn to any of the dates she'd been on before though. She'd been to Hogsmeade with a handful of guys: Seamus before he came out as queer, Cormac McLaggen before he showed his true colors, even George who was the best of the lot but not quite right. Darcy and Ron had even tried to do the romance thing once. It was a thoroughly hilarious failure.

But anyway. Back on track. Brandon took her to see American Psycho. It was...well, she was morbidly fascinated by and somewhat sad about that. It made her think of Tom Riddle and what might have gone through his head.

Brandon thought she was just scared and took her hand. That should have been sweet but was just amusing in a sardonic sort of way. This sheltered kid had no idea what it was to be truly frightened.

Dinner after the movie showed the same levels of dissonance. They compared 'high school' stories, hers heavily edited or left out completely. Apparently the most exciting things that happened to Brandon was a wild dog getting into the school and an empty bomb threat that let them stay home for a week.

"What's the craziest thing that happened at your school?" Brandon asked.

Darcy smiled and shrugged. "Well, there was one Professor who tried to steal something valuable, and another time the castle was invaded by these _really_ ugly snakes. That's about it."

"Wait, castle?" he asked. 

"Oh! Right," Darcy said sheepishly. "I went to St Anthony's Boarding School for the Gifted. It's an old Scottish castle up in the Highlands."

"Dude, that's awesome! Did they have dungeons?"

"Absolutely!" she said, finally on the subject of something she could gush about. "One of the House dormitories was in the dungeon, actually..."

They talked about Hogwarts for the rest of the date, the first conversational topic that really interested them both. But there was so much she couldn't tell him that burned at the back of her throat. She couldn't even call Hogwarts by its proper name, just the fake one they used for muggles. 

So the date was fine. But it wasn't great. So when Brandon leaned in to kiss her at the end of the night, she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"It was a nice night," she lied, "but we're not there yet."

"Yet, huh. So...does that mean you'd like to go out next Wednesday?" he asked with a hint of cockiness.

Darcy laughed.

"Sure," she said, because why not? Maybe the second date would be better.

...

The second date was not better. It was very not better. It started out fine, with a yummy steak and spicy potatoes. They were talking sports, where Darcy described the 'made up' game of Quidditch that she and her friends invented. Brandon was telling her his hopes for a career in baseball when a loud crack split the air.

In an instant Darcy was on her feet, scanning the room for an attacker. They were sitting in the middle of the room, unprotected, with helpless muggles all around--

"Darcy, what are you doing?" Brandon hissed. "Sit down!"

Darcy did not sit, no matter how the muggles were all staring at her like she was crazy. Brandon reached for her and she twisted his arm behind his back before he could steal the wand he was obviously reaching for--

"OW! What the heck, dude?! Get off!"

Darcy shoved him away, darted out of the restaurant, and apparated the second she ducked into an alley. 

She reappeared on her back doorstep and lunged to open the door. She slammed it behind her and did up the locks with a stab of her wand.

"Cece?" Fiona's voice called. She came down the stairs and froze.

"How did we first meet?" Darcy demanded, holding maybe-Fiona at wandpoint. 

"I--what? Darcy, what's wrong with you?"

"Answer the question!" 

"In the bathroom at a club! I tasered a man who attacked you!"

Darcy lowered her wand. "Where's Dudley?"

"Now hold on just one second! Darcy, what's the matter?"

"Possible hostiles," she said, because Fiona deserved to know. "Where is my cousin?"

"In the shower," Fiona said, eyes darting around. "How do you know?"

"Heard someone apparate earlier. Could be nothing. Better safe than sorry," Darcy reeled off as she ran up the stairs to Dudley's bathroom.

She spelled the door open. Dudley yelped and grabbed a towel, almost slipping on the wet floor.

"What did you tell me the summer after fourth year when Vernon locked me in my room?"

"That I didn't think you were a waste of space," Dudley replied immediately, yanking on a pair of jeans and joining them as Darcy led the way back down the stairs. "Who is it? What's going on?"

Darcy repeated what she told Fiona. Dudley touched her arm. 

"Are you sure it wasn't a car backfiring?" he asked. Darcy shook her head.

"It could have been. But it also could have been a Death Eater."

"Right," Dudley let out a slow breath. "Lockdown or draw them out?"

"Lockdown and then we draw them out," Darcy decided, her heartbeat calming as they started to plan.

...

Three days later, Darcy ventured outside to apologize to Brandon, presenting herself as a nice juicy target.

"It just scared me," Darcy explained. "I thought it was a gunshot and then when you tried to touch me, I--"

"Freaked out? Yeah, I noticed. You dislocated my shoulder, Darcy!"

Darcy looked down, only partly feigning regret. "I'm sorry."

Brandon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've seen your scars, Darcy. You've been through some crap and obviously it left you with some trauma. You're a nice girl, but I'm not equipped to deal with that."

"Is this the just friends talk?" Darcy asked wryly. Brandon huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess it is. I'll see you around. Call me if you ever wanna throw a few balls."

And then he was gone. Darcy walked back to her place, meandering slowly as if a little lost. If there was ever a time to attack her, this was it.

Nothing happened.

The three of them remained on alert for a few days but eventually relaxed. It was a false alarm. 

...

"I'm just so paranoid all the time, but I can't help but think it's justified," Darcy said to Ron when he Flooed over later that week. "We've all been attacked so many times. How am I supposed to know what's real and what's in my head?"

Ron pulled her into a hug. Darcy squashed her face into his shoulder.

"It happens to me too," Ron admitted. "Mr Granger almost punched me for tackling his wife. They had a green wind chime and I thought it was the Killing Curse."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. Hermione stopped him though, so he didn't break his hand. Muggles are pretty fragile."

"I dislocated my date's arm because I thought he was trying to take my wand," she said. Ron patted her on the back.

"I think we need help," he said. 

"Probably. I wouldn't trust a Mind Healer to get in my brain, though. Not yet."

"So go to a muggle Mind Healer," he suggested.

"What, a shrink?" Darcy scrunched her nose up, but...that was a decent idea. She could work through her crap without divulging all the messy, Statute protected details. It could work. 

"Thanks Ron," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Anytime, mate."

...

After years packed full of stress, danger and terrifyingly high stakes with homework and school yard drama on top of that, Darcy's life after Hogwarts had seemed almost frighteningly empty. Sure she worked on Werewolf and other Creature rights legislation, and spent time with friends, and occasionally got attacked, but other than that she had nothing to do.

Her therapist said that was part of the problem. Darcy needed hobbies, hobbies she had never had, other than Quidditch. So Darcy found herself trying new things.

Cooking was a bust. She was good at it but it reminded her of being Vernon's little servant girl. 

Knitting was too mindless. Once she got the hang of it, it was far too easy for her thoughts to drift down darker paths. 

Painting was fun. Darcy was surprised to find herself fairly good at it. Art had always been more Dean's thing.

But what worked wonders was taking up sword fighting. Darcy knew how to defend herself with a wand very well but physically speaking she only had a few tricks up her sleeve. Dudley taught her the basics over the years and she had her taser, but that was it.

Besides, Darcy still had the Sword of Gryffindor hanging out in her handbag. It would be nice to know how to use it for the next time a giant serpent showed up and needed slaying.

The therapist said keeping her mind busy was good, but being productive was better. If there was something she had been neglecting, now was a good time to work on it.

So, Darcy finally signed up for the supposedly mandatory "Non-magical Living" classes offered by the MACUSA and was there told by her instructor that she would be better off catching up the muggle way, since she already knew most of the coursework. 

Which led to Darcy enrolling in adult school and becoming a laughingstock among her tentatively formed muggle friends. Darcy dropped them like lit Dungbombs and went right on with her life. 

"I don't know why you need remedial schooling," Brandon said, one of the few who still talked to her, "but I think it's awesome that you're going for it."

Darcy kind of regretted the fact that she and Brandon would never be more than friends. But he was right. Very few muggles were equipped to handle her issues.

...

Months passed, then a year, then two. Darcy got her GED. She started winning competitions in longsword fighting. She saw her therapist once a month instead of once a week. She stopped jumping at every strange noise and got her transformations mostly under control.

And Darcy...well, Darcy started thinking about college. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Close! To the crossover! So close!


	9. jane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crossover begins!

"I don't know, Darce," Dudley said slowly, rubbing at his bruised knuckles. "What if you lose control of your inheritance?"

"Then the MACUSA will take care of it, just like they would if I stayed here," Darcy said. 

"I know, but what about _you_? It would shake you up and we wouldn't be there to help."

Darcy grinned at her silly cousin, who still sometimes forgot magic existed. "Says who? I'll get an apartment so I can have a Floo, and I'm just a firecall away."

"I guess, but what about the temperature? Virginia gets below freezing in the winter, you know."

"I've got that covered," she assured him, shaking her wrist. "Hermione invented a permanent heating bracelet that charges during the hot months like a muggle phone."

Dudley frowned. "Okay, but are you sure you're ready? You've only been back in the normal world for a few years--"

"D," Darcy interrupted, reaching out and grabbing his hands. "I'm sure. I'll be fine."

He let out an explosive sigh. "Okay. Fine. But you better come home for every holiday, you hear me?"

"I hear you," Darcy laughed, hugging him and wondering where he picked up that expression. Probably the telly. 

Fiona poked her auburn head around the corner. "Did you tell him yet?"

"Yep."

"Oh, good. How did he take it?"

"With reservations," Darcy admitted, "but overall quite gracefully."

"Aww, I'm proud of you!" she cooed, sitting on Dudley's lap and pinching his cheek. 

"Gee, thanks," Dudley drawled, British sarcasm at its finest. Fiona kissed him in response. Darcy grinned at the both of them, a little sad to be leaving but not at all going to miss being the perpetual third wheel. 

...

"You're going to university?" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh Darcy, I'm so proud of you! Where are you going? What are you going to study?"

"Culver University," she announces proudly, "in Virginia. I'm going to study political science and diplomacy!"

Awkward silence. 

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Oh, nothing," George said airily. "Just remembering all the times you very diplomatically stuck it to various authority figures."

Darcy pouted at him. "Oh, fluff you, Weasley."

"Case in point."

"You're considered an authority figure now, Mr Joke Shop?" Darcy retorted. George flailed dramatically in offense.

"Oi! You take that back!"

"It's not that you can't be diplomatic," Hermione cut in, quite diplomatically. "But you tend to be...forthright."

"So what?" Darcy shrugged. "I think the field needs more of that."

"Do it," Ginny breathed, eyes alight with glee. "You as a _diplomat_...I can see the explosions already...!"

"Very funny," she sniffed. "So hilarious I didn't even think about laughing."

"Aw, you know you love me," Ginny said, batting her eyelashes.

"I think Darcy will make the perfect diplomat," Luna said absently. "After all, warrior cultures will only respect a fellow warrior."

More silence.

"See," Darcy said snootily, "Moonbeam agrees with me!"

...

"Er, Fifi?" Darcy ventured awkwardly. Fiona continued benchpressing what was probably her body weight.

"Just a sec," she wheezed between sets.

"No, you keep going," Darcy said. "I just need to talk at you."

Fiona grunted in agreement. 

"So I've been thinking that I should change my last name," Darcy began. She fiddled with her wand in one hand. "It kind of feels like a betrayal of my parents but also I really feel like I need a fresh start. And there's a lot of magic in Virginia. Like, a whole lot. Rumor has it that's where the vampire curse was created...but whatever. 

"The point is, it's a lot more likely people will recognize my name, so it needs to go. I mean, obviously I'll get a disguise too, but also...Okay, I'll just say it. Fiona, will you marry me? I kind of need your last name--Fifi!"

Fiona let out an odd, strangled sound and dropped the bar. Darcy lunged forward to catch it with her free hand before it fell on her second favorite muggle's neck. She settled it back in the rack with a _clang_.

"Fiona! You scared the magic out of me!"

But Fiona just sat up, chest heaving.

"Marry you? I can't marry you, I'm gonna marry Dudley!"

"What?" Darcy screeched. "You're marrying my cousin?! Why didn't either of you tell me!"

"We're getting married?" Dudley choked out from the door.

"No! We're not! I didn't mean that!"

"So you don't want to marry me?" Dudley asked, frowning.

"I do!" Fiona yelped. "I mean yes! I would like to marry you, but we're not getting married right _now_ , is all."

"Well of course not, we're in a gym," Dudley said, shaking his head. Then he walked away, leaving Darcy cackling and Fiona even redder than her hair.

"Shut up Cece," she muttered, burying her sweaty face in her hands. "This is all your fault. Stop asking me to marry you!"

"I wasn't serious," Darcy giggled. "I was just going to ask if I could change my last name to Lewis."

"But why?" Fiona asked.

"Weren't you listening?" Darcy said indignantly. Fiona held up her hands. 

"No, I was! I just wanted to know, why my name?"

"Oh." Darcy glanced off to the side. "Well, I have issues with the Dursley name. I associate it with fat people, cupboards, and lots of yelling. Dudley does too, so don't be surprised when he takes your name after marriage."

"What about you mother's maiden name?" Fiona asked, flushing a little at the marriage comment.

"I thought of that, but people know my mum's name too and if I keep my first names it'll be pretty obvious."

"Makes sense, but still: why me?"

"Because I really like you, okay?" Darcy burst out, annoyed. "Jeeze Fifi! You're like my big sister! So shut up and give me your name!"

Fiona raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh yeah," she said casually. "I can definitely see you as a diplomat."

Darcy firmly reminded herself that it was immoral to hex muggles.

...

It was the day before she would move to Virginia and Darcy was showing off the new her to Lavender and Parvati. 

"This is your disguise?" Lavender asked skeptically. "Sleakeazy, colored contacts and off-color foundation?"

Darcy frowned. "It's off-color? But it's the palest one they had!"

Lavender sighed, propping one hand on her hip. "I guess that answers my question. Come here, dearest, and I'll show you a _real_ disguise."

"Uh, what? This is perfectly fine!"

"It's really not," Parvati said from where she was braiding Violet's hair into cornrows.

"Darcy, you look and dress exactly like yourself but with straighter hair and different colored eyes."

"And no scar," Darcy added defensively, pointing at her covered scar.

"Honey no. You need concealer, not just foundation, and Merlin, I can see every one of your pores! What, did you not use primer at all?"

"...What's primer?"

"...Honey _no_."

And so Darcy was sat down and lectured on both muggle and magical makeup until her ears bled and she could repeat it all back flawlessly. Then Lavender bade goodbye to her partner and daughter and Flooed back to Phoenix with Darcy.

"First things first," Lavender said, clapping her hands together. "Your wardrobe! Ooh, I've been waiting for so long! Anyway, most of this goes bye-bye. Pick out anything you're particularly attached to."

Darcy combed through her closet, removing her Weasley sweaters, old Quidditch jersey, and two of Dudley's nicer shirts.

"That's all?" Lavender beamed. Darcy shrugged and nodded. She'd never been fussed about what she wore. It was all hand-me-downs anyway, from Hermione and Dudley and the Weasleys. 

"Perfect! Okay, come on, we're going shopping!"

Three hours later Darcy stumbled back into her mini castle with arms piled with bags of clothes she never would have looked at twice and yet still didn't hate. Lavender strutted inside after her, arms full of even more bags. 

Apparently her tastes 'ran towards the hipster side of things' which mostly meant Darcy now owned t-shirts with sarcastic phrases, lots of flannel, oversized jumpers, and floppy hats that would cover her scar.

Oh, and she had new glasses, rectangular instead of round and purely for show. Her bright blue contacts had the real prescriptions. Because if she didn't have glasses she kept poking herself in the face trying to push them up, and that was just annoying.

"Okay, let's get these put away and then get your hair taken care of."

Darcy whimpered but Lavender was merciless. "Oh no you don't! Up, up now! Go on!"

Darcy stomped back through the Floo, landing clumsily. Lavender proceeded to do all sorts of weird things to her hair that resulted in it coming out straight as a pin, falling nearly to her waist in thick sheets.

"I'll leave you instructions, but you'll have to treat it every day to keep it straight. Once a week for manageable curls."

"Awesome," Darcy said fervently. She could live with doing this once a week if it it meant having hair that didn't eat quills with startling regularity.

"Eyebrows next," Lavender muttered, attacking her with magical tweezers. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and hoped Lav knew what she was doing, because anything pulled out by those tweezers wasn't going to grow back in. 

"Okay, open!" Darcy obediently opened her eyes and startled at the sight in the mirror. Her thick but well-groomed (also thanks to Lavender) eyebrows were gone, replaced by thin, arched things that changed the shape of her eyes and forehead. Combined with the bluish green eyes, neat long hair, new clothes and lack of scar, Darcy really did look like a whole new person.

She hugged Lavender tightly. 

"Thank you," she said. "You're a life saver."

"I know I am," Lavender replied confidently. "Now go knock 'em dead."

...

"Knock 'em dead is supposed to be an expression!" Darcy groaned, wringing her hands. She hadn't _meant_ to hit the guy with the door! But she was excited and stronger than average and he came out of nowhere.

"I am so sorry," she said to the dazed college student as Darcy helped him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

The guy rubbed his head as he opened his mouth. Then he stopped. His eyes went wide and he tried for a charming grin that mostly came out goofy. 

"Well, it's not every day that a guy gets KO'ed by an angel, so I'd say I'm fantastic."

"You have a girlfriend, Johnson!" someone yelled. He stuck his tongue out in their direction.

"I'm Calvin Johnson," he introduced himself happily.

"Darcy Lewis," she replied, taking his hand and snorting when he brought it up to his lips instead. Maybe he thought he was being cute, but Darcy had met actual Lords and he had nothing on the least charming of them. 

"Wanna get coffee later?" he asked.

"I think your girlfriend would prefer we didn't," Darcy said. He was still holding her hand.

"If she existed she would probably agree with you," Johnson agreed dryly.

Darcy smiled apologetically, tugging her hand from his. "Sorry mate. I really do feel bad for hitting you with a door, but I'm swamped. I'll see you around?"

He deflated a little but recovered quickly. "Yeah, sure. See ya around, Angel!"

And with that he jogged away. Darcy shook her head and continued on to her first class, math. Erugh.

...

The first day of her French class, Darcy made a startling discovery. 

She was fluent.

It wasn't possible, or shouldn't have been. Even wizards couldn't learn a language any way but the old-fashioned, and yet Darcy walked right into her classroom and understood every word Madame Allard said. 

And she could respond, in perfect French.

Just--what?

Darcy took the class anyway, as she'd already paid for it, and went freaking out to Hermione the next day. Even her friend had never heard of anything like it.

"The only things that are remotely similar are Parseltongue and All-speak. But with those the individual is born with the knowledge, if not the capacity to use it. And it shouldn't be possible to gain those past infancy; the brain doesn't work like that!"

Some casual experimenting revealed that her translator brain worked on other languages too. So far she could understand Russian, Mandarin, Spanish, German, and of course French.

When she reported this back to the resident know-it-all, Hermione threw her hands in the air.

"I give up! Darcy, it's official. Nothing about you makes sense. First snake, then Fiendfyre, now human languages! You've broken the universe!"

In other news, Darcy suddenly became very popular with the foreign students, though everybody assumed she was majoring in languages.

Oh well. It would help with diplomacy.

...

"Hey, Lewis!" Darcy looked up, vaguely proud that she didn't even have to remind herself that was supposed to be her name now. 

The one who addressed her was a smiling frat boy, and she might have been fooled if he and his friends hadn't been jeering and laughing behind her for almost five minutes now. Still, she pasted on her most cluelessly innocent look.

"Yeah?"

"I think you dropped something," he said, handing her a note Darcy had never seen in her life. She opened it to find an extremely lewd invitation.

She raised her head. The frat boy grinned. Darcy gave him a sweet smile.

"I think you dropped something too," she said. He leered, no doubt expecting something sexual.

"What's that?"

"Your sense of dignity." She slapped the note in his face, grabbed her bag, and walked past the startled moron. She _might_ have shoulder checked him a little harder than a girl of her height should've been able to.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked. "I saw those guys following you."

Darcy looked up. A woman in her late twenties or early thirties peered at her with concern. She was startlingly pretty, but wore sloppy loose clothes and had her honey brown hair back in a messy tail.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just idiots being idiots. I'm Darcy, by the way. Darcy Lewis."

"Dr Jane Foster," she introduced. Darcy felt her eyes get big.

"Oh man, I know you! You're--"

"That crazy crackpot who believes in life on other planets?"

Darcy blinked. 

"Er, no. I was going to say youngest astrophysicist with a doctorate in history and the one whose research on Einstein-Rosen bridges" aka basically apparition or the actual _Bifrost_ , so cool, "totally should have gotten a Nobel prize already." 

Dr Foster practically lit up. Thanks, Hermione. Her friend was the only reason Darcy knew any of that.

"Are you majoring in astrophysics?" she asked eagerly. 

Darcy almost wished she was with how excited the doctor looked. 

"No, I have a double major in diplomacy and poli sci."

Dr Foster slumped but rallied quickly. "Fun combination."

Darcy grinned. "Well, when you make contact with life on another planet somebody has to be prepared to make nice with them."

Dr Foster laughed. It made her even prettier than she already was.

"It's nice to meet someone who isn't a skeptic."

"Oh, I'm a skeptic alright," Darcy disagreed. "Just not about this. Out of all the planets in the universe, there's no way we're the only one with intelligent life."

"And do you think we'll ever make contact?" Dr Foster asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think probably we already have. How else did we build the pyramids?" she joked.

"Do you wanna get coffee some time?" Dr Foster blurted. "Sorry. That was abrupt. But this is the longest conversation I've had with someone that's not a tech assistant in weeks and you seem refreshingly rational. And Erik is always telling me to get out more--anyway. Coffee?"

"Yeah! That'd be great. Thanks Dr Foster." Ooh, Hermione was going to be SO jealous.

"Please, just call me Jane."

So. Jealous.

...

"You met Dr Foster?!" Hermione screeched. Darcy buffed her nails on her jumper without looking up.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"You are introducing me to her," Hermione stated. Darcy raised her eyebrows.

"I am, am I?"

"Yes, Elizabeth Darcy P-Lewis, yes you are."

"And why is that?" Darcy drawled.

"Because it's DR JANE FOSTER!" Hermione burst out. "She's barely over thirty and she's the leading expert on Einstein-Rosen Bridges and I just have to pick her brain! I have so much data from the Floo and Portkeys and Apparition and _Darcy_! Why are you laughing?!"

"Of course you can meet her, Mione," Darcy giggled. "I couldn't stop you if I tried. It's just funny. I haven't seen you in this much of a tizzy since SPEW became a Ministry Department!"

"It's the HELP Department, thank you very much, and I am not in a tizzy!"

Ron chose that moment to walk inside. "Woah, what's she all in a tizzy for?"

 _"Ron!_ "

Darcy laughed.

...

"Jane, this is my friend, Hermione. She's very interested in your work--"

"Dr Foster! It's an honor to meet you! I have a few hypothetical models I'd love for you to look at, if you have the time?"

"That would be amazing! Just let me get my notebook real quick."

"...Wow. That was fast. Figures the only one who can keep up with your Science Highs is a world-renowned astrophysicists."

"Oh hush."

...

Watching Jane and Hermione go at it was like watching a super intense debate in a foreign language, for someone without a translator brain of course. Interesting at first but you get tired of not understanding anything after a while.

It was even more tiring when Hermione spent the remainder of her free time rambling about their work together. Darcy got the brunt of it, since she was ostensibly staying with Darcy on her 'trip from England'. 

"You know you're going to have to 'go back' eventually, right?" Darcy asked one evening.

Hermione bit her lip. "Yes, I know. Probably sooner rather than later. Jane is brilliant and so far beyond me in this. I'm running out of things to contribute."

She sounded a little put out, so Darcy toned down the temperature of her skin and gave her friend a hug. Hermione leaned into it.

"I'm not used to being the less knowledgeable one," she admitted. "It's ridiculous--she's been studying this since before high school, of course Jane knows more than me!"

"It is a little ridiculous," Darcy said freely, "but it makes sense. You're used to being the smartest one in the room, cuz you're brilliant like that. It's honestly amazing that you were able to keep up at all!"

Hermione smiled. "Thanks Darcy."

And that was that. Well, sort of. Hermione 'flew' back to England but Ron secretly told Darcy that her every spare moment was dedicated to astrophysics. Hermione was determined not to fall behind too much. She and Jane kept in touch through muggle means, and before long Jane had won the Dannie Heineman Prize for Astrophysics. She credited Hermione in her acceptance speech.

Hermione cried. 

...

Finals were a blur of stress, late night study sessions, and way too much American junk food. Darcy was confident she had passed them all, though probably not with flying colors. After that, it was on to the next big thing: Dudley and Fiona's wedding.

It was. So cute. 

The ceremony was on June twenty fifth, 2005. It took place outside on the beach of Ireland and was heavily influenced by magic, not that the non-magical guests knew it.

Darcy helped the others turn driftwood into long benches, and grew a living carpet of flowers. Fiona's veil was made from unicorn hair and Dudley wore James Potter's cufflinks. George provided muggle-friendly fireworks that exploded out over the ocean in shapes and colors that were just outside what muggles could manage with pure ingenuity. 

Almost as exciting as her cousin getting married was finally meeting Fiona's ma and da. Her mother, A-Yeong, was Fiona's polar opposite in looks: short, wiry, with dark hair and a delicate face. Her father, Abraham, was more like her: tall and muscular with deep auburn hair and an abundance of freckles. 

Personality wise, Fiona had her da's intensity and her ma's no-nonsense attitude, but her own brand of kindness. Not that her parents weren't kind! But, well...

"You treat my daughter well, lad," Abe said the week before the wedding, eyes boring into Dudley's. "Or I don't know if you'll live to regret it."

He smiled after, like it was a joke, but Darcy could tell when a man was being deadly serious. Oddly enough, it wasn't a threat. 

_Fifi's been holding out on us_ , Darcy thought. When A-Yeong arrived the next day, she realized it was more true than she'd thought. That woman was no police officer; she was something much more dangerous.

It was in the hidden scar across her cheek, the steadiness of her hands, the way sharp eyes evaluated every newcomer as a threat. None of these attributes would have been odd on an officer, and yet Darcy could no more see this woman selflessly defending the innocent than she could Hermione swearing off books.

Her suspicions of a more subtle, deadly career were all but confirmed when A-Yeong cornered her at the reception.

"My daughter gave you our name," A-Yeong commented without so much as a hint of an accent. 

"Yeah," Darcy said, ducking her head as if bashful. "I just, er, needed to distance myself from my past, I suppose. You don't mind?"

A-Yeong met her eyes steadily. "I hope you will not come to regret it. The name brings with it more than you know."

It wasn't hard to look confused and vaguely disturbed by the words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said, foolish girl," A-Yeong huffed, shaking her head. She muttered something in Korean, but unbeknownst to her, Darcy's brain was weird and understood Korean.

"The Triads will eat her for breakfast" is what A-Yeong said. The Triads, as in the Chinese Mafia, she was pretty sure.

 _So_ not a police officer.

...

Darcy waited until Dudley was out a few weeks later to confront Fiona.

"So, scale of one to ten, how likely is it that your ma is in the mafia?"

Fiona sprayed juice out her nose, and okay. Yes, she had purposefully waited for her to take a drink before asking the question. Darcy pounded her new cousin on the back.

"Where is this coming from?" Fiona sputtered, noticeably not denying it. 

"She mentioned the Triads at the reception," Darcy said. "Seemed to think taking her name made me a target. Wanna talk about it?"

Fiona eyed her warily.

"Oh come _on_ , Fifi," Darcy whined. "We've known each other for like five years. You know I'm a witch. I fought a freaking civil war! I'm not going to judge you because your mama is an assassin or whatever!"

Fiona let out a shaky breath. 

"I have no idea, Darce. Really," she added when Darcy's eyebrow shot up. "Ma has been very careful not to reveal the full extent of her work to me, whatever it is. But...I'm pretty sure you're right."

"Wow," Darcy said. "That's fun I guess."

Fiona shot her an incredulous look. Darcy grinned, hoping it didn't look as bitter as it felt.

"I had a piece of an evil man's soul in my head for seventeen years, Fifi. I'm really not going to judge you."

"But you will judge my ma," Fiona said quietly.

"Yeah," Darcy admitted, "maybe I would if I knew what she does, but then again maybe not. I really can't say, but whether she's a good person or not, you're still my cousin."

Darcy gave her shoulder a squeeze and went off to stuff her face in a pot of boiling water. Her sinuses were so dry.

...

After that, the years passed...not exactly uneventfully. Darcy did tangle with the Triads in the form of kicking the stuffing out of a hitman sent after her cousins in 2006. Then again the next year. In 2008 Darcy was seeing her little Teddy off to Hogwarts when the Hulk made his first appearance at Culver. In that same year she watched awestruck as a Tony Stark, dressed in Gryfindor red and gold, became a real life superhero. 

Real life went on. She got her BS in International Relations and Diplomacy, and her BA in Political Science, and then took a few years exploring to have a midlife crisis, wherein she realized she was almost thirty and people still asked to see her ID when she went to clubs. Even her other wizard friends looked like they were at least in their twenties!

But Darcy didn't feel almost thirty any more than she looked it. She felt exactly like she did at nineteen, only calmer and less like she was fresh out of a war. So she went back to Culver and made new friends as young and reckless as she felt, got ditched by said friends for not being young and reckless _enough_ , and then got roped into taking an internship with Jane.

"You realize I'm completely unqualified for this," Darcy told her. "I make a mean coffee for a Brit, and thanks to Hermione I can read some of your fancy machines, but that's it, mate."

"I don't care," Jane said. "It's not that I need help, it's that I want a friend who believes in me through who-knows-how-many months in the desert working my butt off."

And...that was that. Darcy Lewis was officially Darcy the Intern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cookies to those who caught the two (2) references in this chapter lol.
> 
> Also, I wanted to thank all of you who commented on the last chapter! I was pretty worried about it, so I'm super glad you enjoyed it!


	10. thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...I'm alive?

_"But nobody's seen him in hundreds of years?"_

_Hermione's voice was flat and skeptical. Darcy had only just learned about Loki and Asgard and she still felt herself bristle._

_"Yes and no," Percy said with what was probably supposed to be longsuffering patience. "Nobody has seen him in the flesh, per se, but there have been thousands of recorded instances of intervention--"_

_"You said he wasn't a god." Hermione all but pounced._

_"What?" Percy frowned, baffled. "He isn't. He's an extraterrestrial warlock from a planetoid known as--"_

_"Asgard, yes. I just thought, when you said intervention, that you referred to_ divine _intervention," Hermione said loftily. "Continue."_

_There were many scoffs, incredulous looks, and rolled eyes. Hermione seemed to sense this and squared her shoulders straighter, determined not to loose what wasn't even an argument._

_"Of course," Percy said, now visibly irritated. "As I was saying, over the last several hundred years, incredible magics have been preformed all across the Wizarding World, almost always in aid to various witches and wizards. Each time a calling card was left, bearing the personal crest of Loki."_

_"That could easily be an organization of many wizards, passing down the conspiracy."_

_"It's not a conspiracy!" someone said, to a general mutter of agreement. Percy and Hermione both ignored this, but Darcy was starting to get frustrated._

_"The magical signature of each is not only identical, but utterly foriegn to any known earth magics," Percy shot back, his patient facade cracking a little._

_"Well if it's utterly foriegn then how can our own magic come from his people's?"_

_"Alligators are descended from dinosaurs," Darcy blurted out, "but that doesn't mean you'd mistake one for another."_

_A beat of quiet in which Darcy felt her face turn red, and then the room burst into triumphant chatter._

_"Yeah, that's right!"_

_"Ha!"_

_"Way to go, Potter!"_

_Several people clapped her on the back as Darcy sat there, a little stunned by her own audacity. Maybe Uncle Vernon was right; there really was no stopping her fat mouth._

_At least it worked out in her favor this time. She had spoken out and that was that. The debate was over._

_Was this another Girl-Who-Lived thing?_

_"Now wait just a minute!" Hermione snapped. "There has to be some sort of logical explanation beyond 'oh, it was aliens'!"_

_But nobody paid her any mind. It was late and they were tired. Darcy cautiously got up and started to follow the crowd to bed. Hermione's eyes locked onto the motion. Her lips pressed together in a poisonous scowl. Darcy went still, ready to run or fight back, but the other girl only narrowed her eyes and stomped up to their dorm. Darcy followed at a safe distance._

_Hermione, she thought to herself, wouldn't believe even if the actual Bifrost split the sky overhead._

_..._

Darcy stared, open mouthed, as what had to be The Actual Bifrost split the sky overhead. Asgard was coming. Asgard was coming, just outside a tiny town in the armpit of nowhere and the Bifrost was already caught on film by a scientist and only Darcy was there to smooth things over and this was not what she had in mind when she got her degree in diplomacy!

"Drive!" Jane shrieked, snapping Darcy out of her stupor. She put the van into gear and slammed her foot down on the gas. The research van raced out into the desert, lurching over bumps and into gullies. 

"This is incredible! Get closer!"

"Jane, you don't know what this thing is-" Dr Selvig tried, but Darcy was obeying before Jane finished the command. It was almost impossible to see through all the dust flung up by the Bifrost as it boomed, letting out a shockwave, but she managed. Managed well enough, in fact, to avoid wrecking their car against the visiting Asgardian and causing a galactic incident. 

"DARCY!" Jane yelled as she slammed on the breaks, only to gasp in shock when she saw the figure. 

"Where did he come from?!" Selvig asked.

"Not important," Jane said, all but throwing herself from the van. "Look at these markings! Hey! Big guy! Watch your feet!"

Darcy lunged outside herself as the Asgardian rounded on Jane, who was unintimidated and continued to nag him.

"You _dare_ command the son of Odin?" 

"Just move, okay? This could be the discovery of the century and I'm not going to let some drunken frat boy ruin it!"

The Asgardian--Thor or Baldr, it had to be--snarled in rage. Darcy stepped between Jane and him, but he was already turning away.

"Father! Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!" he bellowed. Nothing.

Darcy kept her taser trained on the Asgardian, wand hidden underneath the plastic device. He didn't seem particularly stable. There was blood splattered across his skin, bruises on his knuckles, and he looked angry enough to start a war. 

Jane hadn't noticed. She was already photographing the runes burned into the ground, working around the screaming alien like she did it every day. Selvig on the other hand, looked almost as worried as Darcy felt.

At last the Asgardian had enough of yelling demands at the sky. He rounded on Darcy.

"You, what realm is this? Álfheim? Nornheim?"

"Earth," Darcy said, "New Mexico? Ring a bell?"

But he wasn't listening to her. His eyes had locked onto her taser/wand combination and his face contorted with rage.

"You dare threaten the mighty Thor with so puny a weapon?"

Jane looked up from her Sciencing. Selvig mouthed 'Thor' and 'Bifrost' to himself. Darcy planted her feet and prepared to attack or defend.

"Let's just calm down, okay? Thor, right? You're acting pretty out there right now."

"Are you calling me mad?!" Thor roared, taking a large step forward. Jane yelped in outrage and Selvig pulled her away, but Darcy had seen plenty of men on the verge of attack. Thor was all bark. 

"No, of course not," Darcy soothed. "It just seems like you've had a long day, is all."

He seemed to falter, perhaps because her statement was true. Or maybe he just didn't expect the diplomacy. 

"...Aye, it has," he growled. Darcy nodded.

"I've had a few of those myself."

Thor snorted dismissively, as if her long days could never compare to his. Having grown up with A) Vernon Dursley and B) a civil war, Darcy begged to differ. 

Behind her, Jane silently started snapping photos again while Selvig hovered apprehensively by Darcy, who appreciated the thought.

"What realm is this?" he repeated, tone only slightly more civil.

"We're in New Mexico, the United States, Northern Hemisphere, Earth!" Darcy said cheerfully. "I'm Darcy Lewis, what's your name?"

He seemed baffled. "...Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard."

Selvig scoffed. "How drunk are you, boy, to pretend you're one of the gods?"

Thor rounded on him, temper instantly reignited. "I am no pretender! Have care how you speak, old man; I am not afraid of dueling an elder to defend my honor!"

"Nobody is questioning your honor, Thor–" Darcy tried.

"Hey, don't you talk to Erik like that!" Jane snapped. 

" _What_ honor?" Selvig wondered.

"Draw your weapon, old man!" Thor roared, pulling a long dagger (or short sword) out of his boot. Jane and Erik stepped back, Darcy stepped forward. 

"There's no need for that," Darcy said firmly. "Thor, put down the knife."

"Stay out of this, mortal! It does not concern you!" Thor tried to step around her but Darcy matched him move for move. 

"Selvig is my friend, therefore it's my business. I'm not going to let you hurt him," Darcy said. 

"Darcy, get away from him!"

"My honor demands recompense! Stand aside! I will not warn you again!"

_Not Darcy, please, not my baby!_

_Stand aside, girl._

_Not Darcy! Take me instead!_

_I said stand aside! I will not warn you again!_

And suddenly, Darcy was furious. All thought of diplomacy flew right out the window. 

"Listen up, you rotten princeling!" she barked. "If you're going to duel Selvig you'll have to go through me first!"

"I will not fight a maiden," Thor said condescendingly.

"Oh yeah?! Well this maiden is about to fight you!"

"Darcy, seriously, stop it—"

"I will not!" Thor gritted out. "For the last time, stand aside!"

Darcy felt her inheritance press up against her skin, longing to burst free and deep-fry this turd nugget. 

"Why?" she asked sweetly, venemously, "are you afraid you'll lose?"

"That is it!" Thor burst out, facing off against her. "You bring this upon yourself, mortal!"

He lunged forward, sword poised. 

"DARCY RUN!"

Darcy side stepped his half-hearted slice and tasered him in the left kidney. He fell to one knee and she added a quick stunning spell. Thor collapsed in a heap.

"Take that," Darcy said to his unconscious body. Approximately no seconds later, Jane barreled into her side in a frantic hug. Darcy hugged her back, starting to feel sheepish as she came down from the high of fury-charged combat. 

"Elizabeth Darcy Lewis you idiot!" she yelled. "What were you thinking?!"

"Darcy, that was incredibly reckless!" Selvig scolded, checking her over for injuries. "That young man was seriously disturbed!"

"You antagonized him first," she grumbled, not liking how she felt like a reckless teenager being dressed down by Hermione or Sirius or Dumbledore or literally anybody else. 

"That was before I knew he had a knife, _hensynsløst barn!_ "

"Oi," Darcy snapped. "I'm not reckless and I'm not a child!"

He blinked. "You speak Norwe—that's not the point. Darcy, you can't go around challenging drunken men to fights! That is the very definition of reckless!"

Darcy scowled. He wasn't drunk, he was an alien, and he wasn't a man, he was an Asgardian Warrior Prince!

Aaand put like that she sounded even more reckless.

"Okay, you're right," Darcy admitted reluctantly. "He just reminded me of—of this bloke I really hated."

"I get that Darce, but really," Jane said. "Please don't do that again."

Darcy nodded mutely, hoping she looked contrite enough to avoid being made to promise. She would hate to go back on her word. Thankfully they seemed to buy it. 

"Okay," Jane said, visibly calming herself down, "we don't have cell service out here, so we can't call the police. So...what do we do?"

She turned to Selvig, who rubbed his face. Darcy studied the unconscious alien and a stupid plan started to form. Jane and Selvig debated the merits of leaving Thor there to potentially freeze to death or get eaten by coyotes or take him into town and potentially get attacked again. 

Asgardian culture, from what little she knew, considered honor duels to be the end of feuds. She had won, fighting in place of Selvig, so really, the danger should be passed. 

She knelt down under the guise of inspecting Thor. _Rennervate_ , she thought, touching her wand lightly to his elbow. She tucked it away immediately after but kept her taser in hand. 

"Guys, I think he's waking up!" 

Jane yanked her away from Thor just as he twitched awake. He sat up slowly and locked his eyes on Darcy.

"You used seidr!" he rumbled. "You _cheated_."

"Hey mate, I'm just a puny mortal maiden, remember? You're the big strong warrior. Using technology isn't cheating, it's leveling the playing field." Darcy gestured to her taser. 

Thor glowered as he stood. 

"You stay back," Selvig warned, pulling Darcy and Jane behind him. But Thor only bowed his head, fists clenched. 

"I will concede the match," he said gracelessly. "On account that there is no other way that the girl could have won."

That's what he thought. 

"So we're good?" Darcy checked. He frowned in confusion. "I mean, you're not going to attack us again if we give you a ride into town, are you?"

"No," Thor answered, nearly drowned out by Jane and Selvig's loud protests. 

"Darcy, are you crazy?!"

"You can't just offer him a ride after he attacked you!"

"Guys, shush! We can't just leave him here to die. Besides, he said he would hurt us. Right, Thor?" Darcy said. 

"You have my word," Thor agreed reluctantly. "I need no transportation, however. I am more than capable of surviving the wilds of Midgard."

That was...probably true. But still. Darcy didn't want to leave him alone in the desert, no matter how much of a jerk he was! That was bad for diplomacy. Though to be fair, so was challenging him to a fight. 

"See, Darcy?" Jane said. "He wants to stay."

"Thor," Darcy tried, ignoring her friend, "I have no doubt you're more than a match for any of the local wildlife, but it's over an hour's drive to the nearest town. By _car_. It would take you days to walk there! Do you really have that much time to waste trudging through the desert with no food or water."

Thor hesitated. 

"Very well," he decided. "I will accept your offer."

He strode over to the van.

"Darcy," Jane hissed, looking genuinely upset. "What the heck? You can't just offer up a ride without consulting us! He's dangerous!"

"He needs help," Darcy said stubbornly. "Please, Jane?"

She looked unconvinced, so Darcy switched tactics. 

"Look," she said, lowering her voice. "We see an anomaly with several characteristics of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge and ten seconds later, a strange man is there, in the middle of the desert, with no car, no sign of any transportation. I know it's crazy, but—"

"You think he's an alien."

Darcy winced at Jane's flat tone. 

"Come on, Janie. We both believe in them."

Jane glanced towards Thor, who was leaning impatiently against the van while Selvig hovered suspiciously nearby. She bit her lip.

"If it is true, it'll show up on the scans," Jane said. "If it does, we can track him down."

"Scans we can't access without the equipment at the lab," Darcy pointed out. "If he really was in that wormhole, we need to keep him with us. Can you imagine what the government would do if they got their hands on him?"

"I...yeah. Okay," Jane conceded. "We'll take him back to the lab."

Yes! 

"But Darcy," Jane said, "it still wasn't okay for you to just volunteer us like that."

Darcy looked down. "I'm sorry. I was just excited, I guess."

Jane gave her a quick hug. "I forgive you. Just try not to do it again, yeah?"

"Yeah," Darcy said, smiling. Jane really was a good friend. 

"Okay, Thor," Jane announced. "We'll take you back to town with us. You can stay in the lab until we get your situation figured out, alright?"

"Jane!" Selvig exclaimed. 

"It is agreed," Thor said. 

So despite Selvig's protests, Jane finished photographing the runes burned into the dirt and they all piled into the van. It was an awkward ride back to Puente Antiguo, even after Darcy turned on the radio. 

"Here it is," Jane said, relief obvious in her tone, as Darcy pulled into the repurposed car dealership. Thor did not look impressed. Still, he came without complaint.

"I require sustenance," he said as soon as they were inside. "This mortal form grows weary."

"I'll whip something up," Darcy volunteered reluctantly. "Nobody's open this late."

Jane shot her a surprised look. It was no secret that Darcy hated cooking. It reminded her too much of the years spent waiting on Vernon Dursley's fat self. 

Thor only grunted. 

"You're welcome," Darcy muttered snidely. She didn't mean for Thor to hear, but apparently Asgardians had sharper hearing than she thought. 

"Is it not your job to cook and clean?" he shot back. 

"I am not a maid," Darcy snarled. "You know what? You get your own food!"

She stormed out of the 'kitchen' and to her own room. It was an old office with a mattress on the floor, but Darcy had lived with worse. 

"Arrogant prat," she seethed to herself. Her hands were shaking. _Why_ were her hands shaking?! She thought she'd gotten over the Dursleys years ago!

Her old therapist's words echoed in her head. _You don't ever really 'get over' trauma. Like it or not, those experiences will always be a part of you. But you don't have to let them rule your life._

Darcy breathed deeply and imagined the anger and edge of fear burning to ash. It was still several minutes before she felt calm enough to leave her room. She found Thor devouring her stash of PopTarts and chose not to say anything. Instead she silently started the long process of printing and organizing the scans of the Bifrost. She got to the thermal images and found the fuzzy but unmistakable form of a man right smack in the middle of the wormhole. 

"Oh Jane," Darcy sang. "Remember that theory I had?"

Jane hurried over. Her mouth dropped open. Selvig came over to take a look. In unison, both scientists turned to look at Thor, whose cheeks were stuffed full of pastry. 

"Yep," Darcy said. "Definitely looks like an alien to me."

Then she sat back and watched as the inquisition began, dutifully taking notes like the amazing intern she was. Thor, unfortunately, wasn't exactly being forthcoming. He was in a terrible mood and somehow still hungry. 

Darcy, let it be noted, did not make him breakfast. Jane scrounged up toast and eggs since they were out of cereal, and tried to continue questioning him as the sun started to rise. 

"I grow tired of this interrogation," Thor snapped eventually. 

"You—"

Selvig cut Jane off before she could antagonize the alien further. 

"You know, we're all tired. How about we get some rest, hm? Thor, you can sleep on the couch if you don't mind."

"I have endured worse."

Jane rolled her eyes, mouthing his words behind Thor's back. Darcy bit back a grin. Jane retired to her mobile home, Erik guzzled some coffee, determined to stay awake and keep watch, and Darcy went up to her room to email Hermione. 

_You'll never guess what happened_ , she wrote. _The Bifrost touched down here, in New Mexico, a couple hours away from the lab! And Prince Thor was in it! I haven't had a chance to talk to him alone yet, so I have no idea what he's doing here, but I will. You have to come down right away._

Hermione's reply was immediate. _On my way_. 


	11. Just a note, sorry!

Um...hi guys! Sorry, this isn't an actual chapter, but y'all are amazing and deserve to know what's going on and why updates are so sparse. 

Life has been pretty crazy for me lately. I moved in with my auntie, who is pregnant and has a four year old. I'm also trying to find a job and help my brother escape from our parents' house. So a lot has been on my mind and writing just hasn't been a priority. This does NOT mean I am abandoning ANYTHING! All of my stories are near and dear to my heart, and will be continued. It's just going to be a lot more sporadic in terms of updates.

Thank you so much for all of your support! It's been a huge help to me. And happy 2021! May it not suck as badly as 2020! 

-whentheyfall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies! Please don't swear in the comment section! If you feel the urge, may I present 'fluff' and 'buckets' as acceptable, child-friendly, G-rated alternatives?


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